


Behind the sunset

by ArbitraryRambunctious (SheepOutTetradecagon)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Almost Everyone Makes an Appearance - Freeform, F/F, F/M, I swear this is a seungchuchu fic, JJ is a lovesick idiot, M/M, Mage AU, Multi, Slow Burn, all the coaches are shady af for some reason rip, alternating pov, in other words i'm not tagging all that, phichit and yuuri have the best friendship, slower than a snail crossing a five lane road, too much plot what am i doing?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 21:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9845726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheepOutTetradecagon/pseuds/ArbitraryRambunctious
Summary: There are spell-casters and there are naturals, Phichit much to his dismay falls into his former category. Still, he has somehow managed to land himself an apprenticeship under the famous grand mage Celestino Cialdini. There's nothing Phichit loves more than magic, but with the tension running high in his country, he finds himself in a difficult situation. What do you do when there's no one you can truly trust?Mage AU in which Phichit is a mage who keeps getting his research sabotaged by some jerk and Seung-Gil is trying to overthrow a government.





	1. Rêverie

The warm rays of the midday sun is what eventually stirs him out of his light sleep. A bit ironic, considering the gentle heat and the comforting orange hues it casts across the little workspace is practically inviting him to take a nap. How he wishes he had the time to sleep a little longer. That had been a nice dream too.

Phichit sits up and stretches his arms in a weak attempt to chase away the sleepiness. The last memories of his dream are slowly fading. He doesn’t try to recall it, knowing that it will only drive it further away, sad as it is to forget. He knows it was about that boy again though. He’s been in his dreams a lot lately.

The position of the sun tells him it is nearly dinner time. He isn’t sure exactly when he fell asleep, but surely Yuuri should have returned by now? Puzzled, he shuffles out of his room and into the common area of the little house they share with their mentor. 

There are a few plants that weren’t there before, but apart from that, the slightly cramped space shows no signs of people being there in any recent span of time.Yuuri’s dog Vicchan is sleeping soundly underneath the table, his fur appearing almost golden in colour in the dim light. The sun illuminates the dust that drifts lazily through the air, settling on the already dust covered books that are literally everywhere. Books and plants, a fitting combination for the high mage of the country.

It is almost like a dream, and Phichit would have thought it was if it hadn’t been for the fact that he has been pinching his own skin every now and then for the better part of a year. Sometimes, even that can’t quite convince him that he is definitely one of the apprentices studying under the great mage, Celestino Cialdini. Known for being well versed in all forms of magic, but particularly gifted with potions and medicine. It still amazes Phichit just how much research the man has done. Research that he is currently getting to partake in. His eyes drift over to where a paper with complex charts and scribbled notes is draped across the table. Truly like in a dream. He pinches himself, ‘cause it really cannot hurt to check again. He still doesn’t wake up.

_ This is really happening. This is really happening. This is really happening. _

The front door slams open, ripping Phichit out of his thoughts. He smiles as a slightly dishevelled Yuuri stumbles in, a couple of geese following him. Vicchan looks up, tail wagging lazily. Dirty shoes are kicked off by the door, a heavy coat discarded over the back of a chair. Yuuri makes a beeline for the couch, collapsing on it, despite the fact that this surface too, is covered by books.

_ We really should clean this place up soon. _

Phichit bounds over, plopping down on top of Yuuri’s back. The older boy merely grunts, but shows no signs of complaints otherwise. Soft fur presses into him as Vicchan joins them in what is slowly evolving into a cuddle pile.

“What took you so long?” Phichit gently runs his fingers through Yuuri’s hair, not a stranger to the subtle signs of Yuuri’s anxiety. They have been best friends since Phichit was 13, and know each other like the back of their own hands. Phichit sometimes wonders if their minds are connected somehow, at times it is almost possible for him to predict what his friend is going to do next, but then Yuuri will find some way to prove him wrong. It is almost comical how his personality can change so drastically given the right incentive. The Yuuri Phichit is faced with now however, is a calm Yuuri. The one that will bury himself in a pile of blankets because the world is really too harsh. 

“Ciao Ciao got in an argument with one of the guards.” Yuuri sighs. “They wouldn’t let him see the king, and those northerners have been taking over more of our work again. He was pretty upset. He is probably still trying to get an audience with the king if I’m not wrong. Anyway, I was heading home when I stumbled over these geese, and I haven’t been able to get rid of them since. I guess we could just let them stay, I’m too tired to get them to leave.”

Phichit hesitates for a bit, glancing over to where the geese are curiously eyeing Ciao Ciao’s precariously stacked piles of books. He should probably get rid of them before they hurt themselves, the house being full of not-so-goose-friendly items. Or animal friendly in general. Yuuri has some sort of natural charm that attracts animals to him like bees to flowers. Him bringing home strays is nothing new. Phichit steers his attention back to where Yuuri is slumped underneath him.

“You’re not telling me the whole truth are you?”

Yuuri tenses up. He sighs, adjusts his glasses, before deciding to take them off instead. He makes a small motion that for anyone else wouldn’t have meant a thing, but Phichit knows he’s trying to subtly tell Phichit to get off him so he can sit up. Phichit comply without complaint, knowing that something is bothering Yuuri.

“There has been another, uh-” Yuuri fidgets with his glasses, watching the soft light reflect off the lenses. “Someone has been sabotaging our research again. The northerners were only part of why Ciao Ciao was so mad.”

Phichit feels anger boil inside him. It is the third time in that week that someone has tried to ruin their research. For a long time, the country was plagued by various diseases that couldn’t be cured, killing off huge parts of the population. Phichit himself was a victim of a pox epidemic when Ciao Ciao’s research saved him. He cannot understand how anyone would be so cruel as to try preventing them from finding better ways to cure people. Nevertheless, he keeps his anger on the inside, knowing Yuuri probably feels a bit dejected. Unlike Phichit, his friend gets awfully discouraged whenever the saboteur strikes. Phichit thinks it might be because even when he is obviously not at fault, Yuuri will blame himself, and he still hasn’t found anything to help his sick sister. 

“What was it this time,” Phichit asks. He feels a bit reluctant to push Yuuri while he is in one of his moods. However, judging by Yuuri’s information, Ciao Ciao won’t be returning anytime soon, and even though he cares deeply for his friend, there are few things that wins over Phichit’s curious nature.

Yuuri shrugs, beckoning the geese over. They snap at his hands as he tries to feed them some bread crumbs he pulls out of nowhere. Probably one of the least useful spells Yuuri has come up with, summoning bread crumbs, but it serves its purpose.

“The usual. The herbs we were growing at the eastern greenhouse were all burnt. And someone had obviously tried to get into the archives. Good thing we improved the protection spells last week. Please don’t get mad at Minami though, he’s doing his best.”

Phichit huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I, know, I wasn’t mad at him when I told him to pay more attention though. A bit frustrated, maybe. I just can’t believe how stupid some people are. I swear, someday, I’m gonna find whoever is doing this and punch them.”

Yuuri laughs, stroking his hands over the geese’s feathers. Vicchan curiously sniffs at the birds, earning himself a bite to the nose and an indignant squawk. Phichit smiles slightly, glad that his friend appears to be feeling a bit better. “Whoever it is should fear for their lives with you against them,” Yuuri mumbles. 

“They better, I’m going to kick their ass.” 

And he would, if the damn perpetrator weren’t so slippery. Not once have they left any clues. Phichit is by no means ignorant, and even if he isn’t the best at searching for clues, Ciao Ciao would definitely have found it if there was anything to be found. It doesn’t change the sad truth that whoever has it out for them is clearly skilled in what they’re doing. 

“Do you think geese tastes good?” he muses, side eyeing Yuuri to gauge his reaction. The boy stutters and places himself in between Phichit and the geese. 

“We are not eating them! I can’t just mindlessly slaughter them after they trusted me enough to come here Phichit. That would be abuse of my, um,” Yuuri gestures to the geese, catching their attention. “Whatever it is that draws them to me.”

“You ate duck last week.”

“That’s not the same thing! I didn’t know those ducks.”

Phichit laughs. What did he even do to deserve a friend like Yuuri? “I’m just joking. It’s still my turn to cook though. You don’t think Ciao Ciao will mind soup again?” Yuuri just shrugs, and settles down on the couch again with Vicchan. So much for help.

“It’ll be alright you know. We  _ will _ find the one responsible person. Mari will be okay. Don’t think too much about it.” 

Yuuri nods, closing his eyes. His hands tangle up in Vicchan’s fur, eliciting a satisfied yawn from the dog. Phichit  smiles, ruffling Yuuri’s hair as he slides past him and into the kitchen; yet another victim of Ciao Ciao’s research. He wrinkles his nose as he removes a beaker with an unidentified blue liquid from one of the saucepans. 

_ We  _ really  _ need to clean this place soon. _

* * *

The dirt on his hands won’t come off properly. It clings like the tight grip of the grapevines on the wall of his master’s house. Even when he scrubs at it, it only smudges. Pathetic. Only someone petty would put a spell on the dirt to make it stick. Fortunately, it isn’t a problem he can’t solve. Of course, this doesn’t make it any less annoying, not to mention his hands are freezing from the cold water.

_ What a drag. _

Muttering an incantation under his breath, he watches as the dirt dissolves, dripping down the drain. It is strangely satisfying. Even if it is highly unlikely, he hopes whoever put the spell on the dirt will somehow find it. He hopes they will grind their teeth in anger as they realize their plan didn’t work. He reserves himself the right to hold the equal amount of pettiness as his opponent. As long as he doesn’t act on it that is. It would be stupid to waste time on something so trivial.

The stream of water eventually stops. He glovers at the rusty hand pump. It is only a few hours before sunset, and he has lost more time than he would like to admit. Part of his reputation is his efficiency. His master is not going to be happy. 

He picks up the little sack, which contains several samples he took from the greenhouse before he burned the results. His master was adamant about him bringing her a few, even if that would make it easier to accuse them of their crime. He hates to have the evidence so close to him. His dog bumps into him, earning her a rare smile from him. When all of this is over, he hopes he can settle down somewhere with her. Somewhere remote where they won’t be disturbed. Maybe he could get another dog. He would like that, and she would be less lonely as well. 

_ Not yet though. _

The vivid buzz of the quaint coastal town makes his head spin as he weaves expertly through the crowd. It is about a month since he arrived together with his master, intent on proving himself. He doesn’t doubt she will let him get what he wants in due time. He is confident in his abilities; she would have to look long for someone like him. 

A few of the vendors are beginning to recognise him as he walks by, greeting him with kind smiles. He merely nods back at them, smiling stiffly. The more people who knows about him, the harder this is going to get. Still, he can’t act suspicious either. To them, he is just another young man who is trying to find a job. They’re not wrong, they just don’t know the whole truth. If they did, he’s sure they would despise him.

The trek back to the inn he’s staying at takes longer than expected. Even on a good day, using spells can be draining for him. It doesn’t keep him from nervously using his abilities to erase his tracks. It is an ingrained habit by now; a process that continues even when he’s not paying it any mind. It is simple enough to relieve him off some stress, altering the air pressure just enough to create a small breeze. He doesn’t even need to do the calculations in his head anymore. 

A few of the villagers eyes him with curiosity when he reaches the inn, clearly not used to seeing someone in his attire. He knows he should get something else to blend in more, but the familiar garments reminds him of what used to be his country, so he hasn’t had the heart to get rid of them yet. He nods curtly at the man behind the counter and drags his tired body up the stairs, his dog following close behind him. She obediently pads over to the door of their little room.

“Good girl,” he whispers as he sticks the key in the lock and turns it. 

The room in itself is nothing impressive. It has a view over the bay, which is pretty enough, but he doesn’t really spend much time watching the scenery. It has a bed and a chair, and a mattress on the floor. He slumps down on it, his dog already crowding his space. He just wants to catch some sleep, but someone else has a different idea.

The chain around his neck suddenly starts to grow warm, alerting him to the presence of his master. He sighs, hugging his dog closer to his chest. She really needs to stop meddling. If she cannot send him out on missions without interfering, she might as well do the work herself.

Of course, he doesn’t voice this aloud. God forbid he opposes her and makes her mad. She is a renowned mage after all, he wouldn’t be training under her if not. She’s a thorn in his side nonetheless. Damn her and her thirst for power.

Like himself, she can be completely silent if she wants to. If he hadn’t been expecting her, he would probably have jumped at the sound of her voice suddenly permeating the air. 

“How did it go?” Her voice is grating, like rusty cogs grinding against each other as they try to keep the machinery running. It sends shivers down his spine for several reasons, none of them good.

“The spell is complicated,” he replies, making sure to keep his voice even. “It was not made by fools. I might need a few more days to break it.”

She tsks at him, stepping into the room. Her dark hair frames her face in a way that makes it difficult to see her facial features clearly. The various trinkets suspended from the hook of her old staff are making soft clinking noises as they bump into each other. So deceptively innocent looking her staff. He knows first hand just how much damage it can deal. 

“How are you going to be able to infiltrate the castle if you can’t even break a simple spell? The castle will be protected with not only spells, but with guards as well. I need you to be at your best for this to succeed.”

“I’ll break the spell. I just need more time to-”

“Time is not on our side Seung-Gil. Don’t stress it. I will look into it myself. Until then, please do not forget our goal. Your spells still needs some work, and I suppose you could stand to work on your natural abilities as well.”

“I won’t forget, quiet nagging,” he snaps grumpily.  It is true that Seung-Gil does have a tendency to get lost in thought. It has never stopped him from reaching his goals though, so he doesn’t feel too bad about turning his back on the old hag so he can take a nap.  

He can hear her sigh dramatically behind him, but she doesn’t bother him any further. She probably has better things to do anyways. Overthrowing a government isn’t done in a week after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> So I've been wanting to write a seungchuchu au for some time now, hopefully it won't be too bad. Anyways, if anyone is interested I'm looking for a beta reader for this fic, since my native language isn't english, and I don't want my grammar to ruin this for you guys~
> 
> You should be fairly good with english, and have enough time to beta read every now and then. (I'm assuming at least every other week, maybe more, but I don't know how much school I'll have) If you're interested (or just want to scream about seungchuchu) hit me up on tumblr, I am Sheepouttetradecagon.
> 
> Also, if anyone has a good name for Seung-Gil's dog, feel free to leave suggestions for me. Thanks for reading!!


	2. The northerners and other shady people

“Get the hell out of here you nosy pig, how hard is it to understand I can't let you in without identification!?” 

Phichit squints at the young boy in front of them. Yuuri looks like he doesn’t know whether he wants to cry or laugh. He stares in shock at the boy, as if he cannot fully comprehend how a small delicate kid like him can have such a potty mouth. Northerners sure are interesting. 

“We just wanted to know whether you had seen him or not. We did not mean to trespass or anything.” It takes all Phichit has not to laugh at the kid. He knows that the boy could probably kick his ass if he wanted to, but the absurdity of the situation is getting to him. It isn’t everyday you get stopped at the castle gates by an angry teen. The boy huffs at Phichit, blond bangs falling into his eyes.

“That’s exactly what you did though, are you stupid?”

“Please just let us speak with the king, we promise he will recognise us even without our papers,” Yuuri tries. The kid just glares at him. Their little staring contest is interrupted by a chipper voice. They all turn towards the sound. A tall man wearing the same clothes as the kid in front of them is running towards them, a huge grin plastered on his face.

The boy groans, his aggressive glare turning into something akin to petulance. The man comes to a halt beside them and ruffles the boy’s hair, regarding them with blue eyes. They remind Phichit of the lake by his parents’ home in winter. His gaze settles on Yuuri who let’s out a strangled breath.

“Is something wrong?” The man asks, still not taking his eyes of Yuuri. Phichit crosses his arms over his chest, watching Yuuri shake his head almost frantically. The boy seem to have other opinions on the matter.

“They don’t have any papers to identify themselves, and still they expect me to just let them in-”

“That’s enough Yuri. We don’t want to scare them away do we?” Yuuri jumps at his name, before realising it isn’t him the man is referring to. It has been a while since Phichit has seen him this nervous. The man turns back to them. There is something about him that Phichit doesn’t quite trust. As if his cold eyes holds secrets he shouldn’t even dare to touch. It makes him want to find out more but take Yuuri and get of of there simultaneously.

“We didn’t want any trouble, but our mentor did not return last night after trying to get an audience with the king.” 

The man perks up, his serious expression shifting into a grin again. “Ah, you mean the Celestino guy? Yes, he’s still negotiating. Quite talented, or so I’ve heard. You’re his students?” The expression has turned into a calculating one, as if he’s testing them somehow. Phichit opens his mouth to deliver a clever reply but Yuuri beats him to it.

“Phichit, maybe we should just go home. He’s here at least, so we know nothing happened to him.” Yuuri’s eyes are practically begging him to let the matter go. Something isn’t quite right, but at the moment Phichit is more interested in finding out more about the strange man. He has never been one to back down from a challenge. 

“We’re his students alright. We don’t know who you are though. You don’t look like the usual guards.”

The man laughs, earning another huff from his colleague. “We’re not really guards. Just a couple of mages who’ve been recruited as extra protection.”

“Protection against what?” The man’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly for a second.

“The times are uncertain. You can never be too sure what might show up. “

“You think so? I’ve never seen the town so at peace before, or is his royal highness hiding something from us lowly commoners?”

“Who knows, I wouldn’t be allowed to tell you though. Not that I would want to even if I could.”

“So you’re saying have something against me personally? We don’t even know each other.” 

“Exactly. You can never be too careful with strangers you know. They might stab you in yyour sleep.”

“Phichit  _ please _ . Let’s just go home.” Yuuri’s stressed breathing has become painfully audible. All the eyes turn towards the boy insistently tugging at Phichit’s shirt. Even the strange man’s gaze seems to soften a bit at the sight when Phichit looks back at him. Phichit scolds himself for not listening to Yuuri sooner. He decides to make it up to him later. He could make him his favourite food or something. Maybe apologize profusely for being such a bad friend. 

“Okay,” he says, still not taking his eyes of the man. He turns to Yuuri, grabbing him by the elbow and he turns them both around. Yuuri exhales with relief as they start walking towards the large gate.

“It was nice meeting you!” The man shouts after them. Neither pay him any mind. Phichit can hear the boy, Yuri he reminds himself, yelling at the man. 

Phichit waits until his friend has calmed down sufficiently before he starts prodding.  They’re seated on one of the fountains in downtown. Birds are flocking to Yuuri as usual, picking at his hands to see if he has any food. He indulges them after a while, tossing the crumbs at his feet.

“What happened up there. You’re usually not that nervous around new people,” Phichit muses. One of the birds catches his eyes. It’s a hooded gull. Black head in stark contrast with the white of its body. It reminds him of something, although he isn’t sure of what. Yuuri shifts beside him, eyes still a bit wide.

“You didn’t recognise him?” His voice sounds winded.

“Who? The tall scheming guy? Should I know about him?”

“ _ Phichit _ .” Yuuri’s voice comes out as more of a whine than anything else. “That was  _ Viktor Nikiforov _ . The head of the northern guild. He’s probably the youngest person to ever hold the position guild leader  _ ever. _ ”

Phichit bites his lip. He can vaguely recall hearing about a young mage assume the position of guild leader a few years back. However, he never paid it any mind. Having grown up in a secluded southern town, he hasn’t really looked into old gossip too much. The fresh gossip is much more interesting. 

“He seems a bit unreliable, don’t you think?”

Yuuri shrugs, conjuring up more breadcrumbs. The birds flock contently around him as he lets the crumbs fall to the ground. 

“He is  _ seriously _ skilled. There’s a reason Ciao Ciao is so anxious about losing terrain to him. He could easily replace him as high mage if he wanted to. I used to really look up to him when I was younger. Me and Yuuko would pretend to be him when we were playing.”

“Used to? Did something happen?”

Yuuri shrugs again. “Not really. I guess I just realised I would never live up to that, and it was around the time Mari fell ill as well.There were other things that mattered more. It wan’t like I would ever get to meet him anyway, right?” Yuuri laughs nervously. Phichit hates how vulnerable it sounds. Yuuri’s self esteem isn’t exactly anything to boast about, but he had thought it was better than this.

“ _ Yuuri. _ We’ve been best friends for so long and you never told me”

“It didn’t seem very important at the time.”

“Wounded. I will never recover. I’ll admit he was pretty good looking in his own odd way though, I can see why you liked him.”

Yuuri sputters, burying his face into Phichit’s shoulder. “That was  _ not _ why I looked up to him.”

“You’re not disagreeing though,” Phichit singsongs. He only gets a muffled groan in response. It is what he was aiming for. Distracting Yuuri from his demons is one of his most important tasks. That and being a self-proclaimed expert meddler. 

_ If Ciao Ciao doesn’t return tonight I’ll figure out this fishy business myself. _

* * *

“You look sour, did something happen?” 

Yuri turns his head from where it is resting on the windowsill of his room. “Oh, Beka, it’s you.” He sighs, turning his attention back to the dull view of the town. “It’s nothing. Just Viktor being Viktor.”  _ And also those dumb villagers, but they’re not even worth to mention. _

“Did he lecture you on something again?” Otabek’s eyes are questioning, but he cannot quite hide that smidge of worry he reserves for Yuri only. 

“How did you know?” Even to himself, Yuri sounds like a lifeless fish

“You’re sulking. You only sulk like that if he has a point.”

“I do not.”

Yuri sits up. His friend is leaning on the doorjamb, expression almost neutral. However, his lips have a subtle quirk to to them, telling Yuri that he does indeed find this amusing. Stupid Beka and his smiles. It just makes him more annoyed, and he turns back to staring out the window, but then he realises he resembles some dumb helpless princess, and turns back again.

Otabek has entered the room by now. He draws out a chair from under Yuri’s desk and seats himself on it with his chest against its back, cause Otabek is just that cool. Unlike Yuri who’s stuck with Viktor as his teacher, Otabek is one of the commanders of the royal guard. In other words, he is closer to holding the position previously held by Yuri’s grandfather than Yuri himself. In fact, Yuri isn’t very close at all. He would like to blame Viktor for keeping him from enlisting in the royal guard. For now, he will have to manage with being the heir to Viktor’s position. Which isn’t very cool at all. Nothing ever happens in the north.

He stares down at his hands. If he hadn’t be cursed with his damn abilities, maybe he wouldn’t be in this situation. The nickname  _ The ice fairy of the north _ comes to mind. He despises it. At this rate he isn’t going to be taken seriously by anyone. Even if he gets angry, people will only find it cute or amusing. His small stature doesn’t really help him. The face of that particularly nosy villager resurfaces in his mind. Maybe he should just go take a nap before the world gets the chance to screw him over again.

“Mila wanted to know if you and Viktor were interested in going downtown to grab something to eat with her tonight.” Otabek has pulled out his knife, a weapon which is more of a symbol of his position than a tool for fighting. He expertly tosses it into the air, catching it by the blade without cutting himself. If anyone else pulled out a knife and started to mindlessly play with in in his presence, Yuri would yell at them for being irresponsible. He only lets it slide because it is Otabek, and the guy knows what he’s doing. Yet again, Otabek is just that cool. 

Yuri grumbles. “She can’t ask herself?” He stares at the cold wooden floor. Whoever owned his room before him must have liked to pace a lot. The boards are scuffed and worn, even though the edges looks deceptively new. 

“Viktor is hard to find unless he wants to be found, and she seems to think you have been avoiding her.”

“She’s clingy,” Yuri mutters.  _ And also she treats me like her little brother, so there’s no way I want to hang out with that hag. _

“You remind her of her home you know.”

“If she misses home so much why doesn’t she just leave?” 

Otabek just smiles, letting his head rest on his arms on the back of the chair. He closes his eyes, turning himself into the perfect picture of tranquil. In many ways, Yuri hates how he can be so calm in any situation. Doesn’t he ever lose control of his emotions? The way he holds himself as if nothing fazes him is something Yuri himself won’t even try to replicate. 

“Will you be there too?”

“She didn’t invite me. Would you go if I was there though?” The amused lilt to Otabek’s voice makes Yuri want to both scream in frustration and go hide somewhere. They’ve only known each other for about a year, but Otabek has gotten pretty good at reading him in that short span of time. He is relieved that Otabek’s eyes are still closed. It gives him time to get a grip of himself.

“Maybe,” he finally answers. “I can’t speak for Viktor though. Fuck, where did the shitty old man even disappear to?” 

“Language,” Otabek hums in response. Yuri huffs, but grinds out a sorry. Usually he is more reserved with cursing around Otabek. “ _ You won’t get into the royal guard if you act like that”  _ is all it took. And it isn’t like he cannot go without unlike what some people (namely Viktor) seems to think. 

They sit in silence for a while. It is something Yuri cherishes. Silences with Otabek are never awkward; it is enough for both of them to just enjoy each other’s company. Yuri closes his eyes, imagining the view of his hometown in his mind. At this time of the year it is unbearably cold, but the snow makes it worthwhile. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he misses it, and his grandfather whenever he is away. On some level he understands Mila, who comes from the same town as himself. The coast is too warm and the air constantly  stinks of saltwater and kelp. Worst of all though, is the noise. The capital of their little country truly never sleeps, and it drives Yuri up the wall on a weekly basis.

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor catches Yuri’s attention. He watches as Otabek stands up, sheathing his knife before shoving the rickety chair back under the desk. He smiles gently at Yuri as he turns towards the door.

“I’ll ask Mila if she’ll mind if I tag along if you ask Viktor.”

“Alright, alright I will. Anything else?”

Otabek turns around, his expression amused again. Yuri knows there is a huge chance he is going to hate whatever it is that will come out of his friend’s mouth next. He’s never been particularly religious, but right now he still finds it in him to pray to whatever gods that might exist. He’s too young to commit murder yet. 

“I didn’t just come to see you because I had some time off. The prince was looking for you, said he wanted to go downtown, but you know how strict the king has been lately with everything happening at the borders. He’s going to need a bodyguard, preferably someone skilled with magic.”

This time, Yuri doesn’t hold back on his swear words.

* * *

Rich people, Seung-Gil decides, are the worst. The garden he is standing in probably costs more to maintain monthly than everything he has earned since he left his childhood home. He forces a polite smile anyway as the daughter of his master’s client shows him around. Her brother has been trailing after them the whole time, glaring daggers at the back of Seung-Gil’s head. He doesn’t really mind the hostility, since it is entirely mutual. 

Sometimes he wonders if what he’s doing is worth it anymore. Nothing can change the past, and he isn’t too positive about the future either. It is especially when his master forces him into situations like the one he is currently in that these inner musings tend to take over. Why does she even need him to do this? Whether or not he gets along with the client’s offspring has nothing to do with the mission ahead.

_ She probably just wanted to get rid of you while she discusses her dirty schemes with the gross old miser. _

Seung-Gil glances over to where the girl has taken on the role as guide with fervor. He tunes out her chatter as she leads him onto a narrow path framed by tall birch trees. Their leaves are just starting to spring out from the buds, making the air smell fresh. Birds are chirping, even though he cannot pinpoint exactly where the noises are coming from. He spots a cat lazily lounging in the sharp spring sun. The siblings lead him to a bench by a small pond.  _ Of course they have a pond. Is there anything these guys haven’t got? _

He settles down on the edge of the bench, mostly so he doesn’t have to be sandwiched between the girl and her surly brother. It isn’t that Seung-Gil is afraid of him, he could easily beat him should something happen, but the thought about being squished up against someone who clearly hates you doesn’t sound that appealing.

The girl turns to him with eager eyes. He stiffens, hoping the situation won’t call for remembering her name, cause he has already forgotten what it was. His master explicitly told him not to insult anyone as if he is too dumb to understand how important this deal is for them. He isn’t very keen on proving her assumptions about his behavior.

“So, you’re a mage too?” the girl asks. Her brother just rolls his eyes from where he’s seated on her right side. Seung-Gil just grits his teeth and ignores the boy. He forces his features into a polite smile again, turning towards the girl. Her eyes are filled with childish glee, but somehow it doesn’t really feel genuine, as if there is some underlying motif to her question.

“I’m capable of utilising spells if that’s what you mean.” He tries to make the space between them larger without falling off the bench, but she leans in after him as he shifts, a gloved hand landing on his shoulder. 

“That must be amazing. Care to show us?” 

The unexpected question makes him flinch. He glances around himself, assessing his options. He can’t move further without falling off the bench, and getting up would seem rude, unless he actually shows her something. He inwardly curses his master for leaving him with the twins. How does she expect him not to mess this up when the people she left him with are being unreasonable.

“He probably doesn’t know how to Sara. It wouldn’t be the first time a fraud tried to take advantage of father’s position.”

Seung-Gil decides he doesn’t despise the brother, he straight up hates him. The girl, Sara looks at him with pleading eyes. Why do they care anyway? Is that all he is to them, some oddity who can put on a show? 

“I’d rather not show complete strangers, my abilities are… personal. I cannot simply use them to provide cheap entertainment for you. Unlike your family my allegiance doesn’t lie with the highest bidder.” 

The brother’s reaction is amusing, and Seung-Gil almost feels good about it until he remembers his master will probably scold him for acting insolently towards possible allies. Nevertheless, the damage is already done, and he was never one for sugarcoating anyway. If people can’t handle the blunt truth they don’t really strike him as someone worth his time.

What surprises him however, is how while the boy is obviously seething, Sara is just regarding him with cold eyes. Seung-Gil swallows, realising this was probably what she was hiding behind that carefree mask of hers all the time. She’s still smiling, as if to tell him it is alright, but something about it feels more threatening than reassuring. 

“That is a bold statement from someone in your position,” she drawls. Her hand starts to play with a pendant she's wearing around her neck. The rust coloured chain it is suspended from stands in stark contrast to her posh clothes. The pendant itself is shaped like a flower, a small gemstone embedded into the centre. 

“Listen. You think it is despicable how my family runs their business, but I get the feeling you’re not too different yourself. We only do what needs to be done in order to survive and protect our interests. If you think that your master cares about you, you’re sorely mistaken. I’ve met countless people like her. You’re simply a stepping stone for her to succeed.”

Seung-Gil snorts. “I have no illusions. I am well aware that our goals differ, but don’t go comparing me to you. What you do is more than mere survival.”

“Is that so?”

Seung-Gil gestures to the overflowing wealth around them. “This can hardly be counted as a necessity.” 

“Neither can vengeance, but here we are.” She smiles softly at him. Her brother has lost complete interest in the conversation by now.

“What, you think I wouldn’t notice? You’re not the only gifted one here. I like to see myself as someone particularly skilled at reading people, or more specifically their motives. This hatred of yours, you stink of it.” She pushes her hair behind her ears, rearranging the folds of her dress as if she just told him she likes to take long walks in the park on sunday afternoons. Seung-Gil frowns, hands twitching. It is rare to come across other naturals, abilities of her nature even more so.

“I’ll make you a deal if you want,” Sara whispers. For once, her brother gives Seung-Gil a look that doesn’t drip with animosity. It resembles something entirely else, like pity or fear.

“I’m listening.”

“I know quite a few people. I could get you into nearly anywhere. You’re after someone’s life aren’t you? Your master hungers for power. The only reason you stick with her is because she’s skilled. And you need a scapegoat should something go wrong. I could provide you with a safer solution. One where you’re independent from her.”

“And what do you gain from it?”

Sara shrugs nonchalantly. “You’re someone willing to kill for his goals, and I’m in need of an assassin. It won’t even mean anything to you, in fact, I’m sure you might even enjoy it.”

“Just who exactly are you targeting? I don’t go around killing innocent people if that is what you think.”

“But you already voiced your dislike towards people like us, especially people like my father didn’t you?”

Seung-Gil swallows. On the Sara’s other side her brother is staring down at the ground, his eyes conflicted. He doesn’t say anything against her.

“It can be arranged.”

It is the first time Seung-Gil see her smile genuinely “Great. Now, the only thing I need to know is where you’re headed and when. I should be able to pull the right strings within the next week or so.”

Seung-Gil imitates her previous careless attitude, shrugging as he delivers the answer.

“I need to get into the king’s castle, preferably somewhere I can reach both the king and any military leaders without any problems. About three week’s time should be enough for me to sufficiently prepare.”

Sara wrinkles her nose, but to her credit, she doesn’t seem to surprised. “That’s a tricky one. I’m up for a challenge though. I don’t think I need to mention our names stay out of this. As far as anyone else is concerned, we’re total strangers.”

“You have a deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't murder me, I wrote this at 1am and I still haven't found a beta reader (so if you want to please contact me?)
> 
> Other stuff I'm still looking for: a normal sleep pattern, will to do homework, and MOST IMPORTANTLY a name for Seung-Gil's dog. Seriously, please suggest somthing in the comments I'm bad with names.
> 
> Thanks for reading, you can find me on tumblr (shitposting), I'm Sheepouttetradecagon


	3. Caves

_The fog is thick around him. Phichit doesn’t recognise the place at first, but as he moves along, the distinct shapes of the artfully carved pillars makes it possible for him to identify his whereabouts. The hallway leading into the throne room of the castle. He has only been there a handful of times together with Ciao Ciao, but it is a place that is hard to forget._

_Beautiful weaved tapestries cover the tall walls. Their blood red colours seem almost grey in the dim light, making them look old and washed out, like a picture in an ancient tome. The garish beasts depicted snarls down at him as he passes. Come to think of it, there being so much fog inside a building is a bit odd. That is only the first indication that this is definitely a dream._

_It is only confirmed when he sees him. Phichit would have recognised that silhouette anywhere. It is a bit taller than Phichit, with a slender elegant build. His dark eyes holds something resembling sadness. Phichit wouldn’t peg it as that though. It is an emotion too volatile to be labelled as something hopeless like sadness. Everything from his rigid stature to his clenched jaw adds to it._

_Like usual, he just stands there,  looking at something Phichit cannot see. He takes a step forward, scared to lose hold of the dream. Whenever he gets close enough to touch the person he will usually wake up. He does not intend to wake just yet. Especially not now when the scenery has changed._

_Normally, Phichit will spot him standing at the shore of the little bay beneath the castle. The shadow of the cliffs and the huge building letting him blend into his surroundings. Today on the other hand, his shape is illuminated by the light pouring in through the tall windows. Their glass mosaic tiles creates dancing shapes of colour that surround him, but never touches the silhouette itself. Phichit exhales, taking another step forward. The figure shifts, making Phichit freeze. Another first._

_Then suddenly he is outside the castle, standing at the edge of the steep path leading down to the bay. Waves are crashing against the shore in a violent fashion. A least the fog is gone, but Phichit can’t help but feel disappointed that he yet again lost the opportunity to uncover the identity of the guy. In fact, he’s a bit surprised he hasn’t woken up yet._

_A sharp movement down on the beach suddenly catches his attention. It is an animal, a wolf? It halts, staring right at Phichit. Wolves aren’t common at all in this part of the country. Then again, dream logic seems to defy reality, so maybe he should stop questioning it. The animal slips elegantly into a small crack in the cliff, disappearing out of sight. Phichit groans, but starts to shakily make his way down the steep path, then the dream changes yet again._

_He is in a cold room this time. There’s a single bed and a chair in addition to a worn mattress. Phichit trails his fingers over the dusty windowsill, taking in the sight of the bay outside._

_“Don’t let her get behind you.”_

_Phichit whirls around, catching a brief glimpse of the boy sitting on the mattress before he is ripped out of the dream._

He breathes heavily, eyes sliding open to glance out of the small window in his and Yuuri’s shared room. The moon is partially hiding behind a grey cloud, a faint circle around it promising snow. Yuuri is sleeping soundly in his cot on the other side of the room, Vicchan nestled comfortably at the foot of the bed. Phichit slides out of bed and pads over to the door. Still no sign of Ciao Ciao. He knows he won’t be able to go back to sleep.

He cracks the door leading into Ciao Ciao’s bedroom open, peering inside. He and Yuuri are not supposed to enter without permission, mostly because the mess Ciao Ciao calls a system is not to be disturbed. Phichit reasons that the situation is desperate enough to call for drastic measures.

He digs around under the bed until he finds what he’s looking for, a heavy book with a looping font impossible to read on the cover. It is dusty from not being used. Phichit rifles through the pages until he finds what he is looking for.

“Perfect,” he whispers.

It only takes him a few minutes to cook together his desired concoction, pour it into glass bottles and attaching them to his rucksack. He hurriedly packs some rope and a few jars wrapped in a woolen blanket, then grabs his staff from where it is shoved underneath his bed. He rarely ever uses it, since it is better for combat spells. However, you never know what you might meet. He throws one last glance at his bedroom, ensuring that Yuuri is still fast asleep before slipping outside.

It is chilly, but it isn’t anything he didn’t expect from a late spring night. The uneven path leading into town from their little hut out on the cliffs feels even longer in the dark. He starts to hum in order to keep himself from getting bored.

It feels a bit silly now that he is actually outside. It isn’t as if he’s got a clear mission, but Ciao Ciao not returning and the encounter with the odd northerners have made him itch to do _something_. He isn’t sure what exactly. As a person who often acts on his impulses, he doesn’t feel bothered by the lack of clarity.

He eventually reaches the part of the beach which is bathed in the shadow of the castle. The tide almost reaches the steep cliff, cold sea water nipping at Phichit’s shoes. He grimaces, but endures the cold. The beach is empty, with no signs of anyone setting foot there recently. Of course, it is hard to tell with the waves constantly washing in over the narrow sandbank. It adds to the mysterious aura of the place. Briefly he is reminded of the view of the same beach in his dream. The details are already starting to get fuzzy. There was an animal, but he cannot recall why it was so special. Not that there are any signs of animals either, maybe Leo is right, and dreams are just that. Dreams. He hasn’t seen Leo in a long while. Maybe he knows why Ciao Ciao hasn’t returned yet?

_I should ask him tomorrow._

He lets his left hand trail over the solid rock wall jutting up from the sand as he walks. His hand catches briefly on a crack, creating a small cut on his palm. He hisses, withdrawing his hand quickly to assess the damage. It’s a shallow cut, but it is long, and even worse, it hurts like hell . Yuuri would have been able to fix it easily, his skill with healing spells being something Phichit admires. He himself on the other hands is just as likely to make the situation worse as he is to make it better. Instead, he tears off a piece of his scarf and wraps it tightly around the wound.

_Good job Phichit, now Yuuri will definitely question what you were up to. Weren’t you supposed to avoid worrying him?_

He scowls at the crack in the cliff. What a dumb way to ruin his own plan to keep his escapade a secret. He sighs, gripping his staff in his right hand, ready to move on. Then he stops. A shiver runs down his spine as he looks back at the crack. There is something vaguely familiar about it. A memory from his dream momentarily resurfaces.

_There’s no way._

He lets his fingers trace the edges of the small crack. It isn’t very wide, and only reaches just above Phichit’s head. Neither a decent sized animal nor a human would be able to get through. Still, he cannot shake the feeling that  there is something more. It’s like something about the place feels numb in an odd sort of way. Or maybe it is just his feet slowly freezing to death from standing in the surf too long. He glances down to where the water keeps lapping at his shoes. It takes him a moment to figure out what exactly is wrong with the picture, but then he realizes, his footprints are no longer dissolving around his shoes. Frowning, Phichit takes a step back, watching the sand lie undisturbed by the waves as they to no avail keep tearing at the ground. A quick glance to where he came from reveals that his footprints from earlier have been washed away.

“What are you,” he whispers, taking a step closer to the crack again. He closes his eyes, searching for traces of magic. His breath hitches as he comes in contact with something. It feels like a cold snake wrapping around his arm, squeezing tightly. Abruptly he pulls his hand back, staring wide eyed at the crack.

“Someone obviously doesn’t want me here.” He lets his hands dig into the sand. It moves slowly, unlike any sand he has ever come across before. As he shovels away the top layers, the substance keep growing harder, until he’s scraping at what feels like a slab of rock.

_Whoever did this is not fooling around, although, it almost feels like someone tried to copy a spell they didn’t know and failed. I can break through this._

He inhales deeply, muttering out a string of words. They flow out of him without a second thought, the ancient language such an integral part of him by now that he doesn’t even need a spell book for spells of this nature. Unlike Yuuri who has natural abilities, he never showed any signs of such gifts. As a result, he has been cramming spells ever since he was a kid.

There is an audible pop when the spell breaks, as if someone pulled a cork out of a bottle. Grinning, Phichit tries to dig once again. What he doesn’t expect is for the entire ground to cave inwards into the crack, which widens out the further down it goes. He sputters as he tumbles into what resembles a cave.

Groaning, he sits up. His eyes try their best to get used to the sudden darkness. Above him, maybe 7 feet up, he can glimpse the starry sky through the crack. The sand is gradually being pushed into the cave as the sea finally has free reign without the spell keeping it in check.

He contemplates whether he should go back to the hut and bring Yuuri in the morning or explore now when he has the chance. A low growl resonates from somewhere. He squints, barely able to make out what looks like a tunnel leading out of the cave. He feels around until his hand closes around the neck of one of the glass bottles he packed. Not exactly what he intended to use it for but he might as well put them to good use. He pulls out the cork and lets the bright blue liquid spill out. It hisses when it hits the ground, steam curling up from where it landed. The vapour gathers together and forms a small ball that sends out a faint light. Phichit smiles. Although the potion is originally meant to confuse and temporarily blind enemies it works wonders as lights sources if emptied out carefully enough.

Brushing the sand off his clothes he ventures into the tunnel, the little orb of luminescent smoke trailing after him.. The passage is narrow and winding. He isn’t sure how much time has passed by the time it widens and opens up into a small cavern. Light shines through small cracks in the ceiling, making it possibly for Phichit to see again. The room he is standing in is shaped like a small dome, walls green from algae and plants clinging to them. He glances down to see a thin layer of water covering the floor. It makes his already cold feet feel like stiff chunks of ice. If he doesn’t find somewhere dry and warm soon he will have to turn back for the night.

He turns around, ready to leave when it hits him that the sound of feet wading through the water never stopped even if he did. Slowly, he turn back, eyes fixing on the opening at the far end of the room. The cool eyes of an animal greets him, from within the dark. He barely has the time to brace himself before the creature launches itself at him.

His last thought is that the wolf sure looks bigger up close than in his dream.

* * *

“Please Yuri, I promise it won’t take long.”

“Get off me! You say that every time. If you’re going to disregard your father’s orders you can do it without me.”

Yuri flinches as JJ embraces him from behind. If it hadn’t been fucking royalty Yuri had been dealing with he would have smacked him. Instead he settles for hating his life and life choices as JJ easily picks him of the ground.

“ _Please_ , I’ll owe you.”

“You already owe me. You met her earlier today.” A well placed elbow in JJ’s shoulder is enough to make the prince drop Yuri. Not that it fazes him at all.He clings to the younger boy like a sloth to a branch.

“But that was while she was _working_. How am I supposed to court the love of my life when she's got her arm shoved into a barrel of fish guts?”

Yuri wrinkles his nose. As a person who didn’t grow up with much fish on his plate, he isn’t a very big fan. Unfortunately, it is hard to avoid seafood when you live in one of the biggest coastal towns in the entire country. As much as he hates to agree with JJ on anything, even he doesn’t find fish and their inner organs very attractive.

“She’s probably asleep already. Just go see her whenever she has a day off.”

“I’ll make dad and Viktor let you join the royal guard.”

Yuri rolls his eyes. It is just like JJ promising stuff he impossibly can manage to actually pull off. Yuri praises himself and his country lucky that the self-absorbed prick isn’t king… yet. Just the thought of JJ on the throne is enough to make Yuri worry for his life. Sure, the guy has some redeeming qualities. He cares deeply about his people, and would do anything to please them, but even Yuri can tell he is too immature for such a task. Damn, Yuri is four years his junior and he can still tell.

“No offense, but there’s no way you’ll be able to convince the old man, and I don’t want your help. I’ll get there on my own.” For once Yuri feels a bit relieved that Viktor is so adamant about him succeeding him. It is almost as if he expects something bad to happen to him so Yuri will have to take his place. He cannot see why it has to be him. With both of them gone, Georgi is in charge back home, and although Yuri wouldn’t willingly leave the responsibility in the hands of such an emotional wreck, it just proves that there are other people eligible for the position.

JJ almost visibly deflates. It is however, not enough to make Yuri feel bad about it. It is a known fact that JJ needs to be taken down a peg or two every now and then to keep him from becoming overconfident.

“If you don’t want to accompany me outside you should keep me company here instead.”

“It is the middle of the night, don’t you sleep?”

“Yuri-”

“ _Fine_. I’ll get you past the other guards if you promise not to bother me after sundown ever again.”

“Sheesh, okay I promise.” JJ extends his hand, his confident grin back in place.

Yuri scowls, but shakes his hand. He hopes that Otabek isn’t on duty. It would be embarrassing to be caught sneaking the prince out against the king’s wishes, especially when his friend believes in him so much. He isn’t interested in disappointing the only person in the godforsaken castle that doesn’t look down on him.

JJ fortunately has the sense to keep quiet as Yuri leads them through several empty hallways. Most of the castle’s inhabitants seem to be asleep or at least in their rooms. Yuri shudders, thinking it would be way too easy for some cunning bastard to sneak in. Despite the king’s orders to increase the security, the amount of guards patrolling is pathetically low. They reach the small back door leading into the gardens without any trouble. Yuri has just shoved JJ though the door when they hear footsteps coming from around the corner. One glance at each other is enough to come to an agreement. Yuri slams the door in JJ’s face, just in time before a guard rounds the corner.

“Yuri? What are you doing here?”

Yuri has to withhold a sigh of relief when it turns out it is just Leo, the third of the commanders. He’s preferable to Mila, since he doesn’t ask as many questions, and there’s no way he’d be able to spin a convincing lie if he was faced with Otabek. He _does_ have a conscience when it comes to his friends. Leo on the other hand is not on the list of people Yuri consider as his friends. He’s not on the bad list either.

Yuri’s dumbstruck face must have made Leo think he’s scared or something. He lowers his spear, lifting his left hand up with the palm turned out. “Hey, it’s okay. If you don’t remember I’m one of the commanders. I know we don’t interact very often, but I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I know who you are, you just surprised me.”

“I’m sorry.” Leo shrugs. Behind him Yuri can hear JJ shifting. He grits his teeth, silently sending a mental message for JJ to keep still. For a moment he considers to just leave him there. The only thing keeping him from doing so is that he knows JJ will be a pain in the side if he does.

“Were you heading back to your room? I can escort you if you want to.”

Yuri huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “ No thanks, I think I’m better suited than you to defend me. Please continue whatever you were doing.”

Leo frowns, but nods. He adjusts his grip on his spear before disappearing down the hallway. Yuri finally lets out that sigh.

“Is he gone?” JJ peeks out from behind the door.

“You better be grateful for this, _your highness,”_ Yuri seethes. He pushes JJ until they’re outside the castle. The air is freezing outside. They keep a high tempo until they reach the commercial district. Yuri can feel his lungs burning by the time they halt outside the fish merchant’s house. The stands that usually displays an abundance of fresh food look hauntingly empty at night. JJ knocks at the door, hands fidgeting as he waits for an answer. Soon enough the sound of footsteps on the other side can be heard, and the door swings open.

A young girl wearing a butcher’s apron opens the door. Isabella Yang, otherwise known as the love of JJ’s pathetic life. Her eyes lights up as she sees who it is. She grins and embraces JJ with a giggle. Yuri rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. The sooner they can get inside, the sooner he can stop worrying.

Isabella releases him, dragging the lovestruck boy in by the hand. Yuri follows without a word. The decor inside is plain and simple. There is a small fireplace on the other side of the room beside a door that leads into what appears to be a kitchen. A few chairs are standing around a single table in the middle of the room. An old ladder is placed against one of the walls, disappearing into the second floor.

“What are you doing here this late?” Isabella demands. Her eyes have a certain firmness to them behind the loving exterior. JJ actually looks sheepish for once.

“I just wanted to see you. I mean, when you’re not working.”

She laughs at him, then finally acknowledges Yuri’s presence. He’s not sure if he should feel offended or not. It’s not like he cares.

“Yuri too? What did you even do convince him to take you here?”

“He promised not to bother me any further. Speaking of which, don’t you guys sleep during the night? I’d love for this to be over so I can go back to bed.”

Isabella shrugs, and leads them both into the kitchen. A chopping board takes up most of the space on the kitchen table. On it, several partly dismembered fishes lie unfinished. A man with an apron similar to Isabella stands by it, sharpening a knife. He greets them with a nod as they enter.

“You’re still working this late?” JJ pouts. Isabella laughs and ruffles his hair.

“We’re almost done. Do you want to help?”

Yuri grimaces when he realises _you_ includes him. At least he escapes being embraced by the old fisherman. JJ handles it surprisingly well for a guy who previously complained about his girlfriend being covered in fish guts.

They have cut up most of the fish and put it in crates with ice for the next day when Isabella pulls him over to the side under the guise of carrying the fish over to the storage room. They work in silence until they have moved the fish into the room. Yuri almost forgets how much he hates being roped into it for a while.

“You shouldn’t have let him come tonight.”

“What?”

Isabella turns towards him, casting a quick glance at the door before she continues.

“There’s a reason JJ’s father doesn’t want him to leave the castle without his consent. From what I’ve heard, the duke of Naple was assassinated recently. For all we know JJ could be next.”

Yuri frowns, sitting down on a crate. “Are you implying I’m not doing my job properly.”

“I’m telling you not to give into his whims. He might mean well, but his heart speaks louder than his head sometimes. I don’t want him to get hurt because of me. He is too important for this country to die for such a silly reason.”

“It won’t matter how he died if he does.”

The slap is unexpected. Yuri blinks in disbelief as his cheek starts to sting. In front of him Isabella is breathing heavily. She regards him with fiery eyes.

“Don’t take lightly on this Yuri Plisetsky. You might not see it yet, but JJ will be a king second to none when the time comes. If it is your job to keep him safe, do so with all you’ve got. Promise me you’ll do everything within your power to keep him safe for as long as you serve him.”

Yuri gawks. It isn’t everyday he gets slapped by a fisherman’s daughter for not committing to his job. He looks down on his hands. Such a vow would be a heavy burden to carry. He’s not even sure if he likes JJ as a person. However, he knows it is a request he has no choice but to honour. He still doesn’t look her in the eyes as he quietly utters the words.

“I will.”

* * *

Seung-Gil can almost feel the water mocking him when he hears a squelch sound as he puts his foot down. The sensation of water seeping into his boots makes him cringe. He hates the cold with a passion. Sadly there’s little he can do with it at the moment. He continues to trudge forward. He grits his teeth as more water finds its way into his shoes. For some reason, the water is no longer randomly scattered puddles, but a thin layer on the ground. He really hopes no one else is down there. It is hard to maintain his stealth when every step makes splashing sounds echo off the walls.

_I need to get these boots patched together soon._

The narrow passage gives no indication of ending. The frustration that has been building up for the past half hour is starting to get to him. Not only is he now ankle deep in his water, cold and tired. Even after walking around in what is slowly turning out to be a bit of an underground maze, he is just as empty handed as when he came in. He is seriously starting to doubt the Crispino girl’s sources.

Sure enough, he’s not the only one who would have loved to see the king removed from the throne, but that doesn’t mean he trusts them blindly. Especially when Crispino didn’t want to give him their name. Not that it matters anymore, even if he was to find a way into the castle from here it would be useless as an escape route if he gets lost.

Speaking of lost, he hasn’t seen his dog in a long time. He decides not to worry yet since she has a tendency to wander off on her own. However, he cannot remember the last time he saw a side passage leading away from his route.

Seung-Gil yawns. The rhythmic sloshing of water as he walks makes him feel sleepy. Maybe he should have just stayed in. It’s not like he couldn’t have gone off to explore after his duties tomorrow. Min-So doesn't need to know.

Somewhere, a faint growling sound

The passage opens into a small cavern, revealing his dog crouched over something that appears to be a human body. It takes a few seconds for Seung-Gil to get over the shock that his dog actually attacked another human. Even when Min-So is being openly hostile towards him is the most she has ever done to growl. Seung-Gil swallows, finally regaining his voice.

“Jinju, down!”

The husky’s head turns towards his voice, eyes lighting up. She bounds over to him, tail wagging as if she just discovered something she knows he’ll like. He runs his hand through her fur, taking in the sight of the person before him.

It’s a boy around his age with dark hair, but the resemblance stops there. He appears to be a bit shorter than Seung-Gil. His hair is choppily cut, making his bangs rest unevenly above grey eyes. His clothes are wet from lying on the ground. Unlike Seung-Gil, he’s wearing shoes made from cloth with small strips of leather wrapped around it. They’re obviously soaking wet.

“Did she hurt you?”

The boy looks up at him, his jaw going slack for a moment, before he collects himself. His voice is deeper than Seung-Gil expected, but still smooth. It reminds him of water softly washing in on the shore on a sunny day. “I’m fine. I think she was just playing.”

“She’s usually shy around strangers. I never thought she would have it in her to attack anyone like that. I apologise.”

“Hey, I said it was okay, didn’t I? She’s a good dog.” Jinju makes a small sound at the words. She’s more intelligent than any other dog Seung-Gil has had. He wouldn’t be surprised if she understood the compliment.

The boy stands up, water running off him. His previously perky expression turns wistful as he watches the water drip onto the floor. He sighs, bending down to pick up a crooked staff lying beside what appears to be his ruck sack. Seung-Gil has seen enough staffs to tell it is one for channeling magic, specifically combat magic. He tightens his grip in Jinju’s fur, eyeing the boy cautiously.

“Who are you? How did you even get down here?”

The boy blinks at him, then sets his staff down on the ground with a small thump. Seung-Gil flinches, almost expecting something to happen to him. He relaxes when he realises the boy is merely using the staff to lean on.

“I came in through the crack in the cliff. How else do you get here? I’m Phichit by the way, nice to meet you.” Seung-Gil stares at the outstretched hand for what is probably considered too long before taking it. The handshake is, like everything else in the cave, wet. He glances down at the floor which was definitely not this flooded when he entered, then it dawns on him.

“You did reseal the opening, didn’t you?”

Phichit just stares at him dumbly as if he doesn’t understand the question. Seung-Gil resists the urge to strangle him.

“The crack you came in through. You must have broken the spell in order to get here. Did you or did you not reseal it?”

“It didn't really strike me as important at the moment. Why does it matter so much anyway, I’m sure no one stumbles across it this late anyway.”

“That’s not the problem,” Seung-Gil grinds out. “You cannot cast the spell to reseal it if the tide has reached the cliff. We will be stuck here until until low tide. The whole place will be flooded with no exit. _Something_ , which if you judge by the copious amount of water on the floor,” He kicks up some water for good measure. “That has already started to happen.”

“Well, you would obviously not be able to leave anyway if this place is underwater during high tide.”

“There is a _spell_ for that, except it is _useless_ now that you broke the original one.”

“Excuse me, but the one you put in place wasn’t exactly great. Awfully sloppy if you ask me. If you’re going to copy a spell do it properly.”

“I’d like to see you try to replicate a complicated spell with limited time. At least I did something.”

Seung-Gil realises with a start that he is shouting. He rarely loses his composure, not even when Min-So is bossing him around. He cannot remember the last time he shouted at someone. Usually, people backs off after a few rude remarks. Phichit’s eyes on the other hand, are defiant. He doesn’t look away, even with Seung-Gil staring angrily at him.

As their argument dies down, it becomes evident just how silent it is in the cave. There is the occasional sound of water dripping down from the ceiling, but otherwise, the place is dead quiet. Phichit’s eyes soften, then he suddenly breaks into laughter. Seung-Gil stares confusedly around himself, searching for a source for the sudden outburst.

“What?”

“This is really dumb.”

“Well obviously.”

“No, not the situation, or that as well. I just-, I don’t think we should be fighting over a dumb spell. If we’re going to be stuck down here together for the next 4-5 hours, we might as well work together. For starters, I still don’t know your name.”

“It’s Seung-Gil.”

Phichit whistles, slinging his rucksack onto his shoulder. “That’s a mouthful. So Seung-Gil, what is a mage such as yourself doing down here?”

Seung-Gil tenses, glancing over at Jinju for help. She just scratches her ear, tongue hanging out of her mouth as she pants. “I could ask you the same thing,” he tries, hoping he doesn’t come off as suspicious.

“I asked first though, but if you need to know I more or less fell down here. It was not intended.”

“How do you even unintentionally break a spell?”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“I’m a… guard of sorts. These tunnels are connected to the castle. It would be irresponsible to leave them unattended. Which is why you shouldn’t be here. You cannot tell anyone this place exists” Seung-Gil inwardly grimaces. It’s one of the most desperate lies he has come up with to date. He hopes Phichit is dumb enough to take the bait. The boy frowns for a few seconds, then he snaps his fingers, his face complacent.

“You’re one of those northern mages aren’t you? I met your friends the other day. They weren’t as nice as you though.”

“I’m not a nice guy. I’m only letting you stay because I have no other choice. We should move further in. Hopefully, the water haven’t reached the inner parts of the system.”

“ Aah, that’s great. I’m going to get hypothermia at this rate. Hey, didn’t you say you can get into the castle from here? Maybe we can-”

“I’m not going to show some complete stranger the way in. You could be an assassin or something for all I know. We’ll find somewhere else.”

Phichit nods, although his face betrays his real emotions. Seung-Gil pities the boy for a moment as water gurgles in his shoes when he starts to move. If only they find somewhere dry he might be able to use his abilities to amend the situation. Hopefully, that will be enough to throw off any suspicion towards him that might still reside in him. Apart from the fact that he trapped them there, Seung-Gil doesn't have anything against Phichit, so he might as well help him. He ignores the small part of him that finds the idea of helping a local person laughable. In the end, he's just a normal guy in an unfortunate situation. The blood on Seung-Gil’s hand is not unjustified, or at least he keeps telling himself that. He doesn’t know if he will be able to stay sane otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, another chapter so fast, incredible. (It will probably be the last updated at this speed though since school starts again next week (╥﹏╥))
> 
> Also, I finally got around to writing seungchuchu actually meeting. (I swear, it is a seungchuchu fic, there's just a lot of plot in addition to that) Btw, if anyone was wondering the duke Isabella mentions is the Crispino twins' father (he's the duke of Naple bc apparently they're from Naples and I'm too lazy to come up with an original name, rip)
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading (and for the comments and kudos, I'm honoured) If anyone wants to come say hi or scream about seungchuchu you can find me on tumblr, I'm Sheepouttetradecagon (pls, I don't know any other seungchuchu shippers, I'm lonely)


	4. And so it begins

Yuuri usually doesn't have any trouble sleeping. On stressing days there's little he appreciates more than just lying down in bed so he can drift off into unconsciousness. When he feels particularly down, Phichit and Celestino will usually let him sleep in, which is something he appreciates greatly. 

It is something that never ceases to baffle him; the kindness that always surrounds him whenever he is together with his little family of sorts. Of course, he never lacked a loving environment when living at the little family inn out on the eastern islands, but they never really had the same understanding for magic and his abilities.

Ever since he moved in at Celestino’s place, he’s felt more at peace. Not only have he learned to control the output of his emphatic abilities, which are particularly sensitive towards animals, but the environment in general feels calmer. That’s why when for some reason, the cloud of distress currently washing over the room feels so out of place.

Yuuri reluctantly opens his eyes to find Vicchan sitting by his bed, clearly upset by something. He gently cards his hand through the thick fur, his right hand trying to find his glasses on the wobbly nightstand.

The first thing that hits him when he can get the glasses back on is that Phichit’s bed is surprisingly empty. Although the boy is a ray of sunshine, even in mornings, he tends to sleep until late if there’s nothing on the agenda the next day. Yuuri stands up from his bed, scrambling around to put some clothes on. He’s barely assembled an outfit when Vicchan barks sharply at him.

“Shh, you’re not supposed to do that. You know Ciao Ciao doesn't like it.” He tries to reassure the dog by patting his head, but he shies away, insistently trampling around until Yuuri eventually follows. Vicchan eagerly runs into the adjoining room, waiting until Yuuri catches up with him before heading towards Ciao Ciao’s room.

“Vicchan,” Yuuri hisses. It is one thing for him and Phichit to violate the promise to stay out of the room, but letting his dog in would probably invite to some scolding for them both. He gathers the dog up in his arms, trying to wrestle him away from the half open door. Whatever it is that is upsetting his dog is probably trivial. Maybe Phichit forgot to feed him before he ran off to wherever he is.

Yuuri pauses, his grip on Vicchan loosening as two facts hit him at once. The door to Ciao Ciao’s room wasn’t open the previous night, and secondly, Phichit’s absence. Usually he will give Yuuri a heads up if he goes out. He scrambles over to the door, peeking inside.

At first glance, everything is in perfect order, just like Ciao Ciao prefers it. The veritable mountains of books still towers over him in unsteady piles. A dusty cauldron sits in a corner, filled to the brim with dirty socks who could use a wash. He makes himself a mental note to remind Ciao Ciao about it when he gets home.

He is about to exit again when he out of the corner of his eyes notices a book lying open on the floor by the bed. Either Ciao Ciao was home, or-. He doesn’t want to think of what stupid things Phichit might have gotten up to while he was asleep.

He carefully extracts the book from underneath the bed. The page shows a recipe for a potion to soothe headaches, nothing too weird. Maybe he wasn’t feeling too well and went outside? Yuuri exhales in order to calm himself. He needs to stop jumping to conclusion. Beside him Vicchan whimpers, obviously still upset by something.

“What?”

Vicchan nudges at Yuuri’s hand. Confused he turns the page, looking over at the dog or confirmation. He simply lies down, eyes still fixed on the book. The next page is taken up by a drawing of a clear blue potion in one of those bottles made to easily shatter. Usually made to contain potions of a more offensive nature. He lets his eyes skim over the description a few times. It takes a few seconds for the situation to sink in. No matter how he looks at it, the recipe is for flash bangs. 

_Stupid Phichit. I told him not to exclude me from his schemes. Doesn’t he trust me enough to let me in on his plans?_

He hurries into his room again to throw on a cloak before sprinting at the door. He should be able to use Vicchan to track him if he didn’t leave too long ago. Judging by his dog’s behaviour, he would be more than willing to help. He is just about to open the door when it slides open on its own accord, making Yuuri run straight into the person on the other side. He’s just about to scold Phichit for worrying him when he realises the person is much too big to be the small southerner.

“Are you alright Yuuri? Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Ciao Ciao?” Yuuri squints, making sure that his mind isn’t betraying him. He can feel tears threatening to spill when he realises that it indeed Celestino standing at the threshold looking confused. He embraces the man in a tight hug, feeling his anxiety drain away for the moment. A steady hand ruffles his hair, then gently shoves him away.

“What took you so long?” Yuuri whispers. “We were worried sick.”

Ciao Ciao sighs, scratching his receding hairline. It his Yuuri that Ciao Ciao looks drained. “Things have escalated along the borders. I had to attend to an emergency meeting, and it dragged on for longer than I expected. Wait-” Ciao Ciao frowns. “You didn’t receive my letter?”

“No, what letter?” Yuuri hugs himself to keep his hands from fidgeting. Beside him Vicchan scrapes at the floor impatiently.

“I wrote a letter to inform you that I would be occupied for some time. I even paid some guy to deliver it to you.”

Yuuri shivers, his mind supplying him with several reasons to explain why the letter didn’t make it to their house.

“There hasn’t been any mail ever since you left. We thought something had happened, but the guards said you were at the castle so I told Phichit to leave it.”

Ciao Ciao sighs again. He dumps his pouch on the floor and moves over to the worn couch. Dust whirls up in puffy clouds as he sits down.

“I guess I’ll have to get someone I know personally to deliver it next time then. Speaking if which, where is Phichit? I’d think he’d been awake by now.”

“I- I don’t really know.” Yuuri bites the inside of his cheek. Ciao Ciao looks up from where he's sitting in surprise.

“He's not here?”

“He wasn't here when I woke up. I think he might have gone out to investigate why you didn't return. He did mention not trusting the new guards but I didn't think he'd take it this far.”

Yuuri can almost see the gears turning in the older man’s head before he gets up with a huff.

“Damn that free spirited boy. I guess there's nothing we can do for the time being. I do wish I had you both with me though. We're going to have to move our archive to the mountain lab today.”

“Right now? Shouldn't we at least look for him?”

Celestino shakes his head. He grabs a couple of books as he gathers up several plants and pouches of potion ingredients into his rucksack.

“Phichit will be fine, there are more pressing matters at hand. Someone successfully broke into the archives last night. The king was not particularly pleased. We don't know if anything was stolen yet but it is crucial that we find a safer place to store it.”

“But-”

“Yuuri,” Celestino lays a hand on his shoulder, his eyes betraying that although he doesn't say it aloud he too is worried about Phichit. It does nothing to calm Yuuri.

“What's the worst that could happen to him? That he runs into those northerners? They might not be the most trustworthy, but the people at the castle know who Phichit is. He’ll be fine.”

Yuuri nods, repressing the sinking feeling in his stomach. “Okay.”

“Good, now we'll need a lot of herbs for the protection spell, be careful with the plants, we don't want them to suffer any damage on the way.”

Yuuri nods. He starts to gather together the herbs, shoving Phichit to the back of his mind. He ignores Vicchan’s whimper when he turns away from the front door.

-

_Phichit is running. All around him, the once green fields of the town’s outskirts are on fire. Smoke is welling up in thick clouds all around him, making it hard to see. He stumbles over something and falls. He knows it is a dream by the time his hands hit the ground. The absence of pain from both the fall and the fact that his lungs should logically have been burning gives it away. It doesn’t make it feel any less real._

_He turns around to see Yuuri lying on the ground behind him. Even with the knowledge that the boy is just a construct of the dream, he can’t help but rush over to him. There is no pulse when he checks, but he isn’t sure if it is even possible to feel a pulse when it is all just a nightmare. Phichit manages to lift Yuuri up on his back. He is heavy, but at the same time strangely light. Definitely a dream._

_The burnt path is almost unrecognisable as he stumbles towards the town. He isn’t sure what he is hoping to find. He isn’t even sure if the path leads to the city. According to dream logic he could end up virtually anywhere._

_The path narrows the further he goes until he is standing out on the cliffs overlooking the bay. The boats are gone. Instead, the bay is filled with what looks like a thousand yellow eyes at first glance._ Peacock feathers, _Phichit realises. The water is boiling dark red around them, as if the sea itself is made out of blood._

_At the edge of a cliff, the familiar silhouette of Phichit’s very own personal ghost is overlooking it all with his back turned towards him. It makes Phichit’s gut churn uneasily as there is something hauntingly familiar with him. It isn’t the same feeling from earlier, when he simply recognised him as the recurring element of his dreams. For the first time, he doesn’t feel as faceless._

_“Behind you.”_

_Phichit spins around. There is nothing there._

 

The first thing Phichit notices is that his back hurts like hell. He closes his eyes and tries to ignore the pain. His head feels stuffy and for once his usually chipper morning mood is strangely absent. Something about being drenched in cold sea water then having to walk for about an hour before drying up is really fatiguing. He snuggles closer to the warmth beside him, feeling a little better.

The details of his dream is per usual already starting to fade. He can remember being out on the cliff, and that the boy was there. That is, sadly, the only things he can recall. Beside him, the soft pillow of fluff he is resting on begins to stir. Phichit makes a sound of protest as it slips out of his grip, mercilessly abandoning him on the cold cave floor. He rolls over with a  dramatic sigh, his body hitting something with a soft thump. Beside him, Seung-Gil grumbles.

“Do you always kick people in your sleep?”

“Blame your dog, she’s the one who left me.”

“It’s a miracle she let you sleep on her at all.”

Seung-Gil sits up. It is unfair, Phichit thinks. No one should be allowed to look that good after spending a whole night on the ground. Everything from the slightly messy hair and the rumpled clothes down to his still dazed eyes has got Phichit’s heart beating like a hammer trying to break through his ribs. He chokes back a sound as Seung-Gil slicks back his bangs, gathering his hair into a small half bun.

“We should get out of here. I’ve already been gone for too long. The tide should be low enough to cast the spell by now.”

“Jeez, do you ever let yourself go a little? I’m sure the guards haven’t had the time to notice that you were gone yet. Anyways, you did a good job with keeping me from the castle passage so they can’t really complain.”

Seung-Gil stills for a moment. He regards Phichit with calculating eyes, before looking away. “I have other tasks than guarding this place. Promise me you won’t come back here when we leave.”

“Then how am I supposed to find you?” Phichit blurts. He immediately regrets the words the moment they’re out. Although Seung-Gil hasn’t been openly hostile towards him, he hasn’t exactly been the epitome friendly either. Sure, he did use his abilities to evaporate the water from Phichit’s clothes, something Phichit doesn’t doubt required a lot of energy from his side, but that was probably more out of obligation than kindness. He doesn’t get the chance to overthink the situation any further before Seung-Gil regains his composure. His cheeks are tinted slightly pink.

“I can’t see why you’d need to.”

_Because you’re way too precious for your own good, and I need to get to know you._

“I thought that, um, it would be nice to have more friends. You’re new in town, and I don’t really hang out with a lot of people apart from Yuuri and some of the locals. I could show you around.”

“I’m… a busy person. It would be a waste of your time trying to befriend me.” Seung-Gil averts his gaze. Phichit bites the inside of his cheek in frustration.

“I think I can decide for myself whether something is a waste of time or not.”

Seung-Gil looks surprised for a second, then his face settles into its neutral state again. He directs his attention towards Jinju who is lying at his feet. For some reason, he looks conflicted.

“We should get out of here.”

This time Phichit doesn’t try to change the subject.

They walk in what feels like an eternity. Jinju sometimes disappear for short amounts of time as they make their way towards the exit. Seung-Gil just shrugs when Phichit voices his worry for her, telling him she tends to do that. Apart from that short exchange of words, they walk in silence.

He feels almost wistful when they reach the room where the exit is supposed to be. Unlike the previous day, the sand that used to cover the majority of the crack has been washed into the cave, leaving the entrance wide open. It would be impossible to miss it should someone walk by. Phichit hopes Seung-Gil won’t kill him for messing up.

“This is going to take a lot more than just my spell to fix,” he mumbles. Phichit swallows, glancing over at the other mage. He opens his mouth to offer his help, but what comes out instead is a series of violent coughs. Seung-Gil watches him horrified.

“You’re sick,” he deadpans.

“Well I did get rather cold last night,” Phichit croaks when the coughs subside. “Don’t worry though, I have a friend who’s a genius with healing potions. I’m gonna be fine.”

“Good.” Seung-Gil pauses, his face conflicted again. “I’m sorry I didn’t dry you up sooner, but it would be futile with all the water.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Phichit snuffles to keep his nose from running. Yuuri is going to freak out when he sees him like this. So much for not worrying him.

“This is going to take an awful lot of energy. Are you up for it?”

“Well it’s my fault isn’t it,” Phichit mumbles sheepishly. Seung-Gil nods absentmindedly.

“I think it will be easier to just seal it from the outside.”

“If you think so, then let's go.”

It is raining outside, which is a bit of a relief. Although the beach path is frequently used when the tide is low since it is shorter than the land route, people rarely ventures down there when the weather is bad. He still mumbles a short incantation to pick up on the residue of eventual auras left behind by people, just in case. He breathes out in relief when he doesn’t find anything apart from their own.

Seung-Gil has pulled out a slip of paper from his pocket. The ink forming the words is written in an elegant script. It takes only one glance at it for Phichit to understand that it is the spell to keep the water from affecting the sand.

“We’re going to have to improvise aren’t we?” Phichit says.

“Well obviously I wasn’t expecting this. I think a levitation spell might suffice though. No need to make this more complicated than it needs to be.”

Seung-Gil grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers. Phichit almost yelps in surprise, but then realises it is for the spell. He scolds himself for thinking Seung-Gil might want to hold his hand for a different reason. His palm grows warm as Seung-Gil begins to chant the melodic words of the ancient language. Phichit joins in when he begins to understand the pattern Seung-Gil is weaving with his words. It is simple, yet clever and surprisingly poetic. The sand starts to shift, filling the gaping hole in the cliff face until a narrow crack is all that remains.

Seung-Gil pulls out the paper slip and continues to chant. The feeling of something solidifying runs through Phichit, until the sand makes a crunching sound. Seung-Gil relinquishes the hold of his hand. It leaves it feeling cold and lonely without the contact. Also, he feels like he’s going to collapse any minute from the amount of energy he put into the spell.

“Are you alright?” Seung-Gil asks. Phichit nods. He clings to his staff, glad that he has something to support himself with.

“I guess this is goodbye then,” Phichit mumbles. Jinju licks his palm. He smiles solemnly, patting her head gently.

“Yeah…” Seung-Gil grimaces. He stares at the crack for a few moments. The wind gently plays with the stray strands of hair that has found their way out of his bun.

_He almost looks like some sea god like this._

“Thank you for the help. I suppose I won’t have to tell you not to undo this again.”

Phichit gasps in mock offence “I would never. After all we’ve been through Seung-Gil, I thought you’d trust me more.”

Seung-Gil smiles subtly. “You _are_ a rather competent mage. If things were different I wouldn’t have minded working with you.”

“Wow, a compliment. Who would have thought you were capable of that.”

“Just say thanks and take it.”

“Thanks.”

They stand there just looking at each other for a while, the sound of the sea crashing in on the shore and the wind filling the silence.

Phichit tries not to feel too sad when they eventually part ways.

-

Otabek doesn’t need to look to know who it is when the door to the armory slams open. Mila eyes him from where she is sitting at his right side, cleaning the scattered pieces of her armour. She smiles to herself as she returns to her work, ignoring the newcomer.

“Is it true?” The voice shakes with emotions, a mix between anger, confusion and fear all spilling out into those three words. Otabek knows what Yuri is referring to, but turns around to ask anyway.

“Is what true?”

Yuri’s eyes harden. He is out of breath, presumably from the trip up to the tower. He finds a chair and forces it in between Otabek and Leo’s. The older male barely glances up from his work with the knives. As opposed to what Yuri might think the majority of the people in the castle has some form of respect for the him. Even when he storms into the room in a fit of anger, people are willing to indulge him. He doesn’t need the title of a soldier, he’s already got the eyes and the will of one.

“You’re leaving.” There is a hint of accusation in his voice, as if it is something Otabek has chosen of free will. He sighs and puts his work down for a moment. Yuri refuses to meet his eyes.

“It’s not for long. What we’re dealing with is merely a minor skirmish at the eastern border. It should be resolved within a week if everything goes as planned.”

Yuri grabs one of the blunt knives from Leo and starts sharpening the edge with aggressive motions. Leo doesn’t even bat an eye, but keeps working through the knives in a calm controlled manner.

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

Otabek returns to work as well. He works himself into a comfortable rhythm, honing the edges of his sword with fine precision. Unlike Leo who is skilled with both throwing knives and daggers used in close combat, Otabek prefers to have the enemy at about a sword’s length away.

Mila sets her last piece of armour down. However, instead of starting to assemble it, she turns to Yuri. Otabek can tell the younger boy isn’t going to like what she is about to say. He sheaths his sword, meeting Mila’s eyes. She obviously knows her suggestion isn’t going to fall in good ground.

“Yuri,” she begins. Yuri throws the knife he was holding, wedging it into one of the wooden beams in the room. He is shaking.

“Maybe it is time for you to go home. Viktor can handle things here alone and you’re still young. Should the situation escalate at the borders the country might not be safe anymore. I know you want to help, but our hometown can’t afford to have both you _and_ Viktor absent.”

Otabek thinks it is a good thing that Yuri has already thrown his knife. He is gritting his teeth, his hands clenched in fists in his lap.

“Georgi can defend the north. I’m staying, _alright?_ ”

Leo sighs from where he is sitting on Yuri’s other side, then rises from his seat, gathering up his daggers. He shoves several into the belt he’s wearing.

“I’m going to let you guys sort this out. Don’t forget the strategy meeting later today.”

“We won’t” Otabek says, nodding at the man. None of them says anything before the sound of the door closing reverberates through the room.

“The kings is crazy.”

“He is the king.”

“He can’t send you out there. It’ll be a bloodbath. If anything, he should wait and assemble the real troops. The kings-guard isn’t even 500 men. He cannot actually expect you to accomplish something with only 500 men. You’re all leaders for fucks sake, make him change his mind!”

“We don’t have a _choice_ Yuri,” Mila grinds out. Her red hair is falling in front of her face, stray hairs finding their way into her mouth. In her own way, she is truly beautiful. Out of the three commanders, she is definitely the strongest one. Otabek sometimes wishes Yuri would have the same respect for her as he does.

“This is crazy.” He repeats. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares petulantly at the ground.

“We know.”

I single tear falls onto the floor. Yuri doesn’t acknowledge it. It strikes Otabek just how vulnerable Yuri looks like this. It is easy to forget he is only 17.

Mila walks over to him and pulls him into a hug. For once Yuri doesn’t protest but lets her hold him. Otabek looks away, not wanting to intrude on their moment. The sound of Yuri quietly crying he decides, is one of the most heartbreaking things he has ever witnessed. He resolves to try to prevent his friend from needing to show this side of himself in the future.

“I know you’re scared,” Mila whispers. “But the truth is we are scared too. However, we have to do this. If we don’t, the people in the border towns might be in danger. It isn’t our job as knights to question orders but to save those we can. The same goes for you Yuri.”

“I’m not a soldier. Just a dumb mage.” Otabek glances over at the pair, Mila’s eyes begging him to say _something._ Otabek isn’t sure his words will have much impact at all.

“Dumb mages are worth more than us lowly soldiers. You need to understand your value Yura. Even without our command your grandfather will be proud of you.”

Yuri snorts. He has wrestled himself free from Mila by now and is towering over Otabek. Otabek meets his eyes cautiously, not rising from his chair.

“I don’t care about what the king thinks you’re worth, what I am worth. And don’t bring my grandfather into this. He was the greatest commander this country has ever seen, don’t you dare call him a lowly soldier. He is more than I will ever be. ”

“Yura-”

“You have opportunities I’ll never have, so don’t go waste them by dying out there.”

Otabek pauses. He knows it is a lot to promise to return unscathed, but if there is anything he dislikes it is disappointing Yuri. Beside him Mila looks like she is on the brink of shedding tears. She wipes at her face, a small laughter escaping her lips.

“As if we could with you demanding us not to. We’ll be back.” She hugs them both. There is a sense of desperation in her embrace. Otabek knows she was spending her afternoon with the Crispinos under the guise of consoling them. Yuri isn’t the only one she needs to return for. For him though, Yuri is more than enough to fight for.

“I’ll kill you if you don’t come home soon,” Yuri mumbles.

“We’ll be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably apologize for having you wait a whole week for a long ass filler in chapter, more plot to come soon (and more seungchuchu, I swear this is a seungchuchu fic, please be patient with me *hides*)
> 
> Come say hi to me at tumblr I'm [SheepOutTetradecagon](https://sheepouttetradecagon.tumblr.com/) (Look I even provided a link wow)


	5. How to fuck up a perfectly good state

Their room at the inn is empty when Seung-Gil and Jinju return. The dog immediately bounds over to her bowl, clearly offended that she hasn’t been fed in a day. Seung-Gil smiles guiltily at her, scratching her behind the ear as he goes to retrieve the food. With their low budget, the only thing he can afford for her are leftovers the local merchants don’t want. It means Seung-Gil has to take time inspecting it to ensure it is safe for her to eat, but he has no other choice. Jinju fortunately does not complain when he places the bowl down in front of her. He settles beside her, stroking his fingers through her fur as she eats.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to trap us down there. It was stupid of me to bring you.”

“You brought her where?”

Seung-Gil doesn’t flinch. He isn’t surprised. Min-So drops a sack onto the floor; it lands with a clunk. A cracked flowerpot rolls onto the floor, spilling dirt over Seung-Gil’s blanket. He grimaces but doesn’t comment on it. He recognizes the style of the little clay pot, obviously from the court magicians’ greenhouse.

“Did you crack the spell?” He asks, more out of politeness than actual interest. Now that his alliance with the Crispino twins is in place, his willingness to stick by his master’s side is growing smaller by the minute. If it weren’t for the fact that he knows she was withholding information about his family from him, he would have left already. 

“It took a while but yes. Like I suspected, the old fool was sitting on that morphing spell. We should be able to get you inside now. All we need is for you to take the place of someone close to the king.”

“Wouldn’t that be difficult. Them being close to the king would mean them being in his vicinity quite often.”

Min-So huffs, giving him a disappointed look, the one that means she wants him to pay closer attention. “Well you would obviously have to dispose of them first. Until then, I want you to find someone to take the place of. My informant has given me a time when the king should be vulnerable. They’ve already sent someone to escalate the situation on the borders to draw the military away.”

“What?” Seung-Gil glares at Min-So. Her face is stone cold, showing no sign of regret for what she’s done with Seung-Gil’s hometown. Her hometown. The border towns were already in a poor state after being annexed into the west; he doesn’t dare to think of how the situation might become for those still trapped there now.

“You need to learn that sometimes, in order to reach our goals, sacrifices have to be made. Your parents knew this when they sent you away. Learn from their example.”

“My parents didn’t know what they were doing. They might still be alive, but if they are, there’s a  _ huge _ chance they won’t survive another war. This was not what we agreed on.”

“I promised you revenge and proper training, nothing more. Have not your skills evolved since I took you in? Have you not become more than some simple farm boy? You will uphold your end of the deal and overthrow this government. I don’t care what you do after, but until then, you listen to my orders. Are we clear?”

Seung-Gil grits his teeth and nods. He has never been more happy with his deal with Sara. It was easy enough, assassinating her father. He didn't even feel bad about it after Sara told him what he had done. Now the only thing that remains is tricking Min-So into giving up the information about his family. He looks over to where Jinju is sleeping beside her food bowl on the floor. She is the only thing he has left from his home. 

Min-So trails his gaze over to the dog, rolling her eyes. “I need to buy some ingredients for the spell. Don’t disappear somewhere again, I can’t afford having to look for you.”

“I won’t”.

He waits until the door is firmly closed before he dares to sneak out again. It only takes him twenty minutes of running to reach the beautiful mansion located up on the hillside overlooking the town. He feels satisfied that he’s barely out of breath when he enters the gate, Jinju trailing behind him. A straight-faced man opens the door, letting him in without a word.

Sara is sitting by a bowl of water, the view of a young woman assembling her armour being reflected from the surface. Seung-Gil watches the scrying bowl with interest. It is a type of magic he isn’t very familiar with.

“Beautiful, isn’t she? I thought the war would cease if we stopped father funding it. Looks like I was gravely mistaken. I don’t know if I could live with the knowledge that she would be safe had I stopped myself from acting so selfishly.” 

“How is your brother?”

“Better. He seems less nervous now. I think he’s considering getting an apprenticeship with the butcher. I don't think he can stand remaining idle. Also, he gets along well with the butcher’s son, so that’s a plus too.”

They sit in silence, watching the girl getting herself ready for battle. Seung-Gil can feel anger welling up in him, not only for his people, but for the ones dragged into it on the opposing side as well. People like the girl, too young for what she is about to face.

“My master has been egging on the soldiers on both sides, so don’t blame yourself. At least we have reduced the amount of soldiers the king can afford to have on the battlefield, even if it means sending in the guards.”

“Not helping.”

“It’s just a fact.”

Seung-Gil wants to look away when Sara turns to him with teary eyes. He doesn’t know what to say to her, how to console her. He is rescued by Jinju gently bumping her nose into Sara’s hand. The girl smiles solemnly, scratching Jinju behind her ears.

“The passage you showed me. I couldn't find the way in. It would be a bad escape route. I don’t have much time anymore. My master might be ready to put her plan into life within the next few days,” Seung-Gil says.

“Seung-Gil.”

“What?”

“Do you ever-. Would you consider not going through with this? Before you say anything, hear me out. We’ve already failed at stopping the war at the borders, and while out king is definitely not the greatest, I’m not sure if your master would be any better.” 

“I don’t plan on letting her-”

“I know, but you need to realise. Most people doesn’t know about what’s happening at the borders. To them, the king is a unifying symbol. Should he disappear, or even worse, should it be made known that the assassin was from the east, it might end badly for both sides.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m asking you to reconsider. We’ll find another way to stop the war.”

“It should have been stopped long ago. I can’t forgive what this nation did to mine. If it hadn’t been for  _ your _ king, my family would still be together.”

“We’re all caught in unfortunate situations.”

“I did my part of the deal. You’re my only hope of improving the situation for the border towns. I see it now. What my master is doing is wrong. I thought for so long that she had the answers, but not anymore.”

“Which is great. Don’t stray from your path Seung-Gil.”

Sara taps the water in her bowl, the image fading away. 

“If I show you the way through the underground, do you promise to spare the king. I’m not saying you should let him off the hook. Overthrow the government without spilling any blood.”

“That’s a dream scenario, it will never-”

“I believe in you. If there is  _ anyone  _ in this country who can do this, it is you.”

Seung-Gil averts his eyes. He can't bear to meet Sara’s eyes when he knows he will let her down.

“You really shouldn’t.”

* * *

The change in Yuri is immediate. He snaps at the smallest thing (although he did have a tendency to do so before, but even more now) and when he's not otherwise occupied, he paces the hallways of the castle.

It pains Viktor to see him like this, but he doesn’t interfere. After having known the kid for most of his life, he is familiar enough with his ways of coping. He wouldn't have accepted Viktor’s attempts at consoling him.

It saves him time. Although he did realise things might happen soon, he didn't expect the situation to change so drastically within such a short time frame.Yakov did state that the border towns had been experiencing aggressiveness from the soldiers stationed there. The country has been on the verge of war for a long time.

He pretends not to notice when the villagers glances suspiciously at him as he makes his way downtown. They whisper among each other when he passes their stands by the wharf. He comes to a stop outside the butcher, greeting the boy who is hauling a crate of tomatoes.

The boy, Emil Nekola, is one of the few villagers that doesn’t seem to hold anything against Viktor or Yuri. Then again, Viktor isn’t sure if the boy has it in him to act hostile at all. Emil sets the crate down in front of the store, grinning widely. 

“Hey Viktor. Can I help you with something?”

“Yes, I was wondering if you had seen Chris around lately. He was supposed to meet me at the brewery today, but he didn’t show up.”

“Chris? I honestly can’t remember the last time he was in town. Maybe he passed out drunk somewhere.” If Viktor didn’t know the kid, the constant smile would make him suspicious. However, he doubts that Emil has any reason to lie to him. His eyes land on the crate of tomatoes. They’re overripe and don’t really look very appetizing at all.

“What is the butcher’s son doing with so many tomatoes?” he asks offhandedly. Emil shrugs.

“They’re not for me. Celestino sometimes buys offal from us for his spells, but as you might have noticed, he is a busy man. He asked if we could pick this up from the grocer. Apparently someone has been sabotaging his crops and stealing from his ingredient storages lately.”

“Is that so?”

“Unbelieveable, right? I can’t fathom why anyone would have anything against him. He’s given so much to this place. My entire family would have died from the plague if i hadn’t been for him.”

Viktor nods. Celestino is a competent magician, no doubt, but his tight allegiance with the higher-ups is somewhat concerning. Viktor has no doubt that he would do anything to win their favour. Emil suddenly perks up, the sound of running closing in behind them. Viktor turns around, half expecting the little kid with the dyed bangs who seems to be everywhere at once.

It isn’t. It takes Viktor a few seconds to recognize him, but when he does, there is no doubt that it is indeed the boy who came up to the castle the other day. Celestino's student. Yuuri Katsuki, the infamous empath of the south. Yuuri’s eyes widen slightly as he meets Viktors scrutinizing gaze. He is out of breath and appears to be in a hurry, pushing past Viktor with a low “excuse me”. 

Emil grins at Yuuri, gesturing proudly to his crate of tomatoes. “As you ordered. I’ll head inside for the rest, I’ll be right back!”

Emil hurriedly dives in through the door of the shop, leaving Yuuri with Viktor outside. Yuuri starts to fidget with his glasses. His clothes are visibly damp from the rain, wet strands of hair lie plastered against his forehead. His ears are slightly red from the cold. He is nothing like what Viktor expected when he first heard of there being a new empath. It is a rare ability, which usually can be found in confident people with big hearts. The books must have gotten it wrong at some point, or maybe Yuuri is simply an exception from the rule.

“You’re the boy from before,” Viktor states when Yuuri makes no move to greet him. He extends his hand. “Viktor Nikiforov, I believe I didn’t get to introduce myself the other day.”

“Yuuri Katsuki. It is nice to meet you, sir.”

“Just Viktor is fine.”

Yuuri mumbles something under his breath in a language Viktor can’t understand. Truly not what he had been expecting. There is another awkward silence between them. Yuuri keeps glancing off to the door, clearly hoping that Emil will return soon.

“The other kid not with you today?” Viktor asks. He doesn’t really care whether the other kid is there or not, although it had been entertaining to cavil with him. He just wants to hear Yuuri talk. Yuuri frowns, hugging himself with a small sigh.

“Phichit is off to somewhere. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is?”

The accusatory tone in Yuuri’s voice comes as a shock to Viktor. Where there was previously only a shy, fragile boy, Viktor is now faced with the firm eyes of a young man. It makes Viktor’s heart beat faster. He has to force himself to keep a straight face when he answers.

“I haven’t seen him since we last met.”

Yuuri’s eyes show a tinge of worry but remain suspicious. There is something else there too though. Something Viktor cannot quite name.

What is slowly evolving into a staring contest is interrupted by Emil finally returning from the shop. He is carrying a crate of what appears to be bones. Viktor frowns. Bones are usually not used in any spells of a peaceful nature. 

“Do you want to borrow the cart?” Emil asks. The boy hovers at the doorway, obviously eager to head inside again. Viktor silently wonders if Emil actually thinks there is a chance of Yuuri saying no. There is no way the boy, magic or not, is going to be able to take it with him otherwise.

“I'll help him load the cart if you're in a hurry,” Viktor says. Emil lights up at the words.

“Thanks Viktor! I'll contact you if Chris comes around!” 

“I'd appreciate it.”

Yuuri makes a small sound of protest, but Emil is gone before he has the chance to stop him. Viktor smiles cheerfully, happy for an opportunity to get to know Yuuri better. Also, he can't let the fact that Celestino ordered a whole crate of bones from the butcher slide. He is in the south for a reason.

Viktor follows Yuuri around to the back of the shop. A small wooden cart is resting against the wall of a small stable. Viktor grabs the cart before Yuuri has the chance to, wheeling it over to the front. Yuuri mutters a small thanks.

“This is an awful lot of bones,” Viktor muses as they load the crates onto the cart. Yuuri just shrugs. Avoiding making eye contact with Viktor.

“Anything in particular you're planning to use them for?”

“Not really?” 

The crate of tomatoes is settled into the cart with a low thump. Viktor realises that he will need another excuse to talk soon if he doesn't want Yuuri to leave. 

“Really? That doesn't sound plausible.”

“It is none of your business.”

Viktor pouts. He isn't used to be denied anything, be it information or acknowledgment. Before his mind can fully comprehend what is happening, Viktor is holding onto Yuuri’s hand in his.

“Yuuri,” he singsongs. “You  _ need _ to trust me”. Yuuri flinches, but doesn't pull away. Even to Viktor the demand sounds a bit too forward.

“I barely know you,” Yuuri stutters.

“Bones, tomato seeds. I wouldn't be surprised if there were some animal hearts involved as well. This is a paralysis spell isn't it? Terrible stuff, don't you think? Not something you would expect a medic to create.”

“Well- I don't know?” Yuuri withdraws his hand. “Ciao Ciao is just doing his job. If you have a problem, you should take it to the king.”

“Look, I don't mean to question your mentor’s job. I'm simply a curious Mage trying to learn.”

Yuuri gives him a sceptical glance. At some point they have reached the fork in the road where the little path to the cliffs deviates from the main road. Yuuri nods at him, starting to steer the the cart onto the side path.

“Keep your eyes open,” Viktor calls after him. “Should you feel like this doesn't agree with you, don't hesitate to come to me.”

Yuuri turns and smiles sheepishly. “I don't think that will be necessary but thank you for the offer.”

He nods curtly at Viktor before picking up the handles of the cart. Viktor keeps watching until he is out of sight.

“Seems like you were right, Yakov,” Viktor muses to himself. “The south is indeed a shady place.”

* * *

Yuuri tries not to think too hard about his conversation with Viktor when he returns from downtown. Naturally, he fails.

Although he is definitely better at reading animals, he can usually get a little insight into the average person’s feelings. The strictly controlled facade he met when he tried to read Viktor is unnerving. Only once in their entire conversation could he feel the other slip up.

_ What did you expect? He's not the average person. _

He greets Minami, who is helping with the moving as he enters the greenhouse. The younger boy is almost crying as he tries to convey how sorry he is that he couldn't keep the intruders out. Yuuri ensures him that there is nothing he could have done anyway. The smile he gets in return almost lightens his mood. Almost.

However, when Celestino confirms that Phichit still hasn't showed up, he can't help but think that something must have happened. Sure, Phichit is impulsive and has a tendency to forget the time, but this is unusual, even for him.

He keeps himself distracted. Even with Minami’s help it takes up the better part of a day to move Ciao Ciao’s collection of important scrolls and rare plants up to the mountain lab. The trek up the steep path itself is enough to make Yuuri miss his bed. Yuuri is certain he's been followed by at least two mountain lions ever since he came to the place. He can sense their curiosity at the edge of his mind. 

He uses the little energy he has left to put out spells around the perimeter. Mostly to keep animals out, but also as extra protection against intruders.

The sun is hanging low in the horizon when they finally finish. Ciao ciao lets Yuuri and Minami head back in advance, staying behind to place some extra spells for security. 

Yuuri is grateful; his body feeling like a boulder. Somehow, Minami is still full of energy. He excitedly tells Yuuri about how he has begun to learn some simple spells. Yuuri half-heartedly comments when needed to. 

They part ways when they reach town, Yuuri taking the land based route back to their little hut.

Vicchan is sleeping on the couch when he enters the house. He shrugs off his coat and heads straight for his room. He doesn't notice the light of a burning candle before he realises he’s not alone.

Yuuri has to look twice to ensure that he isn't dreaming. Phichit looks at him sheepishly, opening his arms to offer a hug.

Yuuri surges forward and squeezes his friend tightly. The stack of worries he's built up in the past days begins to crumble. He sighs, letting Phichit go.

“Where were you?! I was worried sick!”

“I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. I just couldn't shake the feeling that something shady was going on, so I went out to investigate.”

“ _ Phichit.” _

_ “ _ I know, I'm sorry. I got into some problems with getting back home, but this northerner saved me. I take back what I said about them. Maybe they're not so bad?” 

“You what? You actually went after the northerners?  _ Phichit!” _

_ “ _ I know, I know. They're here to help. I just wanted to know what they were keeping from us.”

“I can't believe you. Just don't do anything like that again.”

Phichit shrugs. He stares at the ceiling with wistful eyes. Yuuri settles into his own bed, pulling the covers up over his body. He is just about to drift off to sleep when Phichit speaks up again. His voice is uncharacteristically quiet. 

“Yuuri. Can I tell you a secret?”

Yuuri turns over in his bed. On the other side of the room, Phichit is still staring forlornly at the ceiling.

“You know you can tell me anything.” 

Phichit sighs. “I think I might be in love.”

Yuuri tries his best to keep his face straight. It isn't the first time Phichit has fallen for someone he just met, thinking he's found the one. It pains Yuuri every time it happens. Phichit has been through enough heartbreak. If other people could just feel how pure and genuine Phichit’s love is, maybe they would think twice about shaking off his advances. What Yuuri is slowly becoming certain of is that there are few people in the world who deserves someone like Phichit Chulanont. 

“You sure?” He asks. He doesn't need to. Phichit nods.   
“I have never been more sure.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, and a special thanks to my beta, glissando (seriously, you deserve an award for keeping up with my overcomplicated sentences and disregard of comma rules ;u;)


	6. Seung-Gil

_ For the first time in a while, Phichit’s dreamscape is serene. The only indication that he is dreaming are the flowers’ scent, or more like, the lack thereof. He picks up a coneflower, breathing it in. Nothing. _

_ The greenhouse looks much fresher in his dream. There are no remains of broken pots, and the cupboards are sealed tightly. Nothing gives away the fact that the place was wrecked recently.  _

_ It is a picture-perfect image of the place in the days when the saboteurs tried to be subtle about it. Phichit briefly wonders what made them resort to more destructive ways. _

_ A perfectly shaped rose stands in a small case on Ciao Ciao’s workbench. Phichit moves over to it, letting his fingers run over the petals. They're vividly blood red, so unlike what Ciao Ciao would have chosen.  _

_ It takes longer than usual for Phichit’s dream ghost to show up, but he can tell the very second it appears. He doesn't know quite what it is that gives it away. He just  _ knows  _ that it’s there. _

_ It is wearing a worn tunic today. Per usual, its back is turned towards him, dark hair moving in a breeze that isn't there. Phichit wishes he could sear the image into his mind. He doesn't want to forget. _

_ There is an almost imperceptible dripping sound resonating through the quiet room. Phichit doesn't really notice it before he is only a few feet away from the figure. It's like an itch he can't scratch. Somehow it feels important, but he can't locate its source. Only when he steps into something wet that drains into his shoes does he realise it is coming from the figure. _

_ He looks down, watching what is slowly becoming a small pool of liquid. Small red drops fall into it irregularly, disturbing the the dark surface of the pool. Blood. _

_ He breathes in in shock, his eyes trailing up to the ghost again. His hands are covered in red, one hand clutching a handful of white rose petals. In the other, his fingers are wrapped around a bare blade that penetrates his skin in a shallow gash. How did Phichit not notice before?  _

_ He reaches out to take the blade away, and then the person turns. Dark eyes stares desperately at him, unshed tears threatening to spill. _

“Seung-Gil?”

Phichit sits up, ramming his head straight into the face of a very shocked Yuuri Katsuki. Yuuri wheezes and clutches his nose. He stumbles backwards, ending up on his ass. Phichit rubs his forehead, watching guiltily as blood starts to trickle out of Yuuri’s nose. 

“Who’s Seung-Gil?”

Phichit yawns, scratching his palm restlessly. The details of his dream are slowly starting to fade, but somehow, everything seems a lot clearer than usual. He knows he was at the greenhouse. Even more important, he knows the identity of the dream ghost. He briefly wonders if his meeting with Seung-Gil somehow affected his dream. No, he is certain. The boy in his dream was Seung-Gil all along.

“Do you still have of those books on dream symbolism?”

Yuuri sputters. He is pressing the sleeve of his sweater up to his nose to keep the blood from getting everywhere.

“Did you have the dream again? I thought you said it didn't mean anything,”

“I changed my mind.”

“I think they're in Ciao Ciao’s room. He wanted to have a word with you, by the way. I'll have breakfast ready for you soon.”

“Fuck. Yuuri, was he mad?”

Yuuri shrugs. He just smiles sheepishly and exits the room, leaving Phichit to himself. Phichit decides there is no point in putting it off. He grabs his clothes from the floor and dresses hurriedly.

Ciao Ciao is sitting in the house’s only armchair, a slender leather-bound book in his lap. He doesn’t look up when Phichit sits down on the couch. Phichit doesn’t try to initiate conversation. The only sound in the house is the occasional clank of a pan as Yuuri prepares their breakfast. 

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Ciao Ciao asks calmly. Phichit almost groans in relief when there is no trace of anger in Ciao Ciao’s voice. But there's a look on Celestino's face that indicates that he's not just going to let this go. 

"Yes," Phichit says, the half-truth bitter on his tongue.    
  


"Are you planning on telling me where you went?" Ciao Ciao asks.    
  


Phichit sighs. Here it is. "I went to the investigate in the northerners? You said you didn't trust them, and they wouldn't let us see you."    
  


Ciao Ciao rubs his eyes. It strikes  Phichit just how much Ciao Ciao has aged in the past week.

"Thank the gods you're alive, but what happened?"

“I got lost,” Phichit mumbles. Not technically a lie, but hiding things from Ciao Ciao is difficult. Only the slightest change in voice might tip him off.

He can tell that Ciao Ciao knows he is lying, but his mentor doesn’t press for more details. He sits back in his chair and pulls out a pipe. He rips off a couple of leaves from a nearby plant and shoves them into it before lighting it with a simple spell. He takes a drag before continuing, the smoke curling around him.

“I need you to run an errand for me. There are still some herbs left that I was planning to relocate here, and if you look in the cupboard, there are still some books left there. I need you to bring those here as well.”

Phichit nods absentmindedly. He glances over to where Yuuri is busy in the kitchen. Phichit had been at the greenhouse in his dream.

“Is something on your mind, Phichit?” Ciao Ciao asks softly. Phichit meets Ciao Ciao’s eyes guiltily.

“It is just a dream. I thought it might mean something, but I’m not sure.” He forces a smile, pushing the notion to the back of his mind. He can deal with it later. “It is probably nothing. I’ll fetch the herbs for you, don’t you worry Ciao Ciao.”

“Good. I’ll have Yuuri help me here in the meantime.”

“Right.”

Ciao Ciao’s eyes drifts back to his book again, signaling to Phichit that he is dismissed. He doesn’t waste any time with getting away, hurrying into the kitchen. Yuuri greets him with a smile, handing him an apron, which he ties behind his back. He proceeds to toss more firewood into the hearth. The embers fly into the air as the log hits the fire. Phichit thanks Yuuri soundlessly as the older boy hands him a plate for his food.

He hurriedly devours his meal. If Yuuri or Ciao Ciao find it odd, they don’t mention it. He manages to sneak into Ciao Ciao’s room to dig around after the book on dream symbolism before he heads out, Vicchan conveniently providing a distraction by puking on Ciao Ciao’s research papers. If anyone asks him, he swears, he didn’t have anything to do with it. 

It is easy to slip the book into his bag with all the ruckus. Neither Ciao Ciao nor Yuuri looks up when he announces that he is heading out. It feels like a small victory when he is finally on his way to the greenhouse. He waits until he is out of sight from the house and pulls out the book, opening it on the first page. 

* * *

The sound of shattering pots reverberates through the room. Seung-Gil hisses as a shard pierces his finger makes his finger bleed. The blood looks unnaturally bright against his pale skin. Unlike the blood of people he has killed,  his own is vivid. The red is accusing, as if tainted by his sins. He removes the shard and wipes the blood on his trousers. It smears across the coarse fabric, staining it red.

_ It never ends. _

He shuts his eyes, teeth digging into his lips. If Min-So hadn't been so reckless, maybe the high Mage wouldn't have noticed the presence of a thief at all. Seung-Gil has always been careful not to leave any evidence when visiting the greenhouse. He tells himself it doesn't matter. If Min-So can't get the herbs she needs for the spell, maybe she will give up. Seung-Gil knows it is a naive thought.

He gathers up the broken pots, muttering an incantation to repair them. He rarely throws a fit of anger, but things haven't been going his way lately.

No matter how much he tries, Min-So remains relentless. She isn't giving up any information about his family anytime soon. He’s been thinking a lot about truth serums lately, but they are hard to make and often come with nasty side effects. He might not like what Min-So is doing, but she is the only other person he that is alive from his country. He wouldn’t have the heart to end her.

The exit of the greenhouse is almost hidden by thickets of ivy. The door moves slowly and creaks loudly as Seung-Gil forces it open, slipping out discreetly. If his calculations are right, he has already spent too much time here. He lets his eyes wander to the small path leading down to the town. Apart from the greenhouse, there are only a few houses in the area.   
  
His suspicions are confirmed when he hears someone humming down the road. A quick glance around tells him it is too late to get onto a different path. He ducks behind a tree, hoping that whoever it is won't notice him. Although he is skilled in combat, he feels the most confident when he can kill from afar. He has no interest in engaging in physical conflict if it can be avoided.    
  
"What are you doing here?"   
  
Seung-Gil spins around, almost colliding with a perplexed Phichit. The other boy gapes at him, as if he were witnessing something amazing, but then the awe turns into doubt. It doesn't suit him.    
  
"I am- lost,” Seung-Gil stutters out weakly.    
  
"Right," Phichit replies. His eyes drift toward the smear of blood on Seung-Gil's trousers. He frowns, his hand reaching out to touch the stains before changing course, taking hold of his still bloodstained hand. Seung-Gil swallows, his heart beating rapidly, but lets Phichit continue to examine his hand.   
  
_ Does he know I've been lying to him all along? _   
  
"It’s almost like I knew you'd be here."

"What do you mean," Seung-Gil says testily.    
  
Phichit shrugs uncomfortably. "I just... I had this strange dream last night."   
  
Seung-Gil freezes. His fingers dig into his palms of their own accord, leaving crescent-shaped indents. "A dream," he deadpans.   
  
Phichit hums. "Actually, it was more like several dreams. You were there. Crazy, right?"   
  
"It must have been a coincidence." Seung-Gil makes a move to leave, but Phichit stops him with a hand to his chest.   
  
"Hey, you didn't answer my question properly. What are you  _ really _ doing here?"    
  
"I said I got lost. I need to go, so please let me through."   
  
"Why are you always avoiding me?"    
  
Seung-Gil flinches. He avoids Phichit's grey eyes. Because they are too similar to another set of eyes he used to know. He slumps in defeat, letting Phichit back him up against the tree.    
  
"If you know something about this, please answer me. I don't know why this is happening. I've been having premonitions for so long now."   
  
"You're wrong." Seung-Gil's voice cracks at the words. He swallows the lump in his throat, trying to blink away the tears threatening to spill. His hands clench and unclench without his consent. "What you see. They’re not premonitions. They can't be."    
  
"Why not?"   
  
Seung-Gil chokes on air. It is hard to think with Phichit crowding his space. It is hard to think at all. In all the time he has been in the west, he has done his best to repress his memories of home. However, Phichit is slowly demolishing his carefully-built mental wall.    
  
"No two people have ever had the gift of premonition simultaneously. Do you have any idea of how  _ rare _ it is? There is no way you have this ability, because I  _ know _ the real clairvoyant of our age!"    
  
Phichit takes a step back. For a second, Seung-Gil is afraid that he might have scared him. It takes a moment for Seung-Gil to understand what he is staring at, but then he notices that his right palm is damp. A small trickle of blood runs down the length of it. The wounds made by his nails aren’t enough to be worrisome, but it hurts nonetheless. 

“You said this ability was rare. How do you explain this then?”

“What?”

“My dream. You were hurting yourself. Your palm, it was bleeding, and you were clutching flowers.” Phichit nods to the crumpled leaves Seung-Gil’s hand must have ripped off a low branch at some point. He often starts to fidget with anything within reach when he is nervous. It means nothing. It can’t.

“You were in the greenhouse earlier, weren’t you?”

“No”.

“Please don’t lie to me.” Phichit’s eyes bore into him. “If I can’t be the one with the premonition gift, then at least tell me where to find them.”

“Why. What would I gain from that?” Seung-Gil snaps. He forces himself not to feel guilty when Phichit looks like a kicked puppy. They barely know each other. It is for the best if it stays that way.

"We don't always gain anything, when we give." Phichit unwinds his scarf and starts wrapping it around Seung-Gil's bleeding hand. "If we always expect something back, the word kindness would lose its meaning,  don't you think?"    
  
Seung-Gil closes his eyes.   
  
"My sister."

"Huh?"

"She could predict the future through dreams. I haven't seen her ever since the eastern country was annexed into the west."   
  
"So she might know what is happening to me?" Phichit looks up excitedly. Seung-Gil grimaces.   
  


“When did you start having dreams?”

“I don’t really know, does it matter?”

“ _ When _ .”

Phichit shifts uncomfortably. “Maybe about two months ago, although I didn’t really understand until recently that there was a connection to the real world. I don’t get it. Why is that important?”

  
"Don't you understand? I haven't seen her in  _ years _ . Logically speaking, your dreams align perfectly with this situation. I can't acknowledge that you are clairvoyant without acknowledging her death. That's all there is to it."   
  
For the first time since he showed up, Phichit stills. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. We’re done here.”

Seung-Gil makes another attempt at leaving. The world seems to blur around him, dragging itself along at a sluggish pace. His mind feels like a potion of confused emotions. Too late. He waited for too long and failed his family. Every kill he made, every person who fell by his hand could not save them. He is certain that if his sister didn’t survive, the others didn’t either. Which means there is nothing holding him back from leaving Min-So. He grimaces, knowing that she might be the only person left from his past life.

He has only taken two steps before Phichit catches his wrist, preventing him from leaving. Seung-Gil feels too tired to snap at him, so he just halfheartedly pulls at his hand. What he doesn’t expect is for Phichit to envelope him in a tight hug. Seung-Gil makes a squeaky sound he is not particularly proud of. 

He places his hands awkwardly on Phichit’s hips. Somehow, it feels comforting. He hasn’t had a real hug since he was a child. He didn’t know he needed it so badly. It ends too soon, but he isn’t about to complain about it. Phichit just smiles shyly at him.

“If you ever need a place to stay, you can find me in the little hut out on the coastal rocks.”

“I-”

“You don’t need to pretend anymore. It is obvious you’re not one of the northerners. I don’t know what you are here for, but if you ever need someone, I’ll be here. I might not be your sister, but at least I can be your friend.”

Phichit waves, then hurries back down to the path again. Seung-Gil needs a minute to calm himself. His chest feels strangely tight. For some reason, he wouldn’t mind being stuck with the strange feeling Phichit left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter chapter, but still a chapter lmao.
> 
> Shoutout to my wonderful beta Gliss, because i'm lost without her (she pretty much wrote the Ciao Ciao Phichit dialogue, I'm so grateful *cries*)
> 
> Thank you all for reading this far, you can find me on Sheepouttetradecagon.tumblr.com!


	7. Visions of the future

If there is something Mila will never be able to forget, it is the smell of the front. The smell of dust rising from the rubble after their catapults demolish yet another building. The smell of rotting bodies that no one dares remove. The smell of blood and misery, which seem to be ingrained into the soil by now. She shudders to think about what might become of her if she doesn't make it out. 

It is only their second day here, and they are already losing terrain. The guards are not used to being on the offence. They stumble around like confused children. The easterners might not be trained soldiers, but they have experience with the constant attacks from the west.

Mila stares sullenly into her soup. It is madness, and the king knows it. They've been at war with the bordering countries ever since he came into power. They’ve been at war so long that normal people have forgotten the conflicts. The armies mostly consisted of young farmers, too poor to turn down the offer. Young people who were told they’d be merely guarding the borders. Young people who never returned.

It pains her to be a part of the system. It pains her that she has known her entire life. That she hasn’t done anything to stop it. She can vaguely remember her uncle celebrating with her when they conquered the northern border towns. He had brought home gifts for her. She didn’t realise the toys she received must have belonged to someone else at some point until much later.

_ Maybe this is punishment. Maybe we deserve dying here after ignoring the matter for so long. _

Mila doesn’t look up when Leo sits down next to her. He hands her a piece of bread. It is a little stale, but it still tastes okay when she bites into it. Leo looks surprisingly calm for a person who has spent his whole day being ignored by panicking troops. He hums to himself as he eats, tapping out the rhythm on his leg. 

“Leo,” Mila whispers. He stops his tapping, soft brown eyes looking at her curiously. “If it is not too much to ask. Would you sing for us?”

Leo stares at her, surprised, for a few seconds. He shoves a stray lock of hair behind his ear and he nods. He sets his bowl of soup down on the ground. 

Only a few close friends knows about Leo’s passion for music. How he spends hours of his free time writing beautiful pieces. Mila remembers the first time she caught him composing. He was sitting in his room, sheets of parchment spread across the floor, with a lyre in his lap as he scribbled down the notes. He had been embarrassed for weeks afterwards. However, he would gradually let Mila and later Yuri sit and listen to him. “ _ My father loved music,”  _  He’d told her. “ _ He taught me it is the best way to win people's’ hearts over.” _

Mila knows it is true when Leo stands up, his strong voice sounding through the air. As she predicted, the mood instantly lightens.The entire camp looks up, enchanted by his voice. The lyrics are tragic, yet beautiful. The song of longing to return home to his beloved. It is a feeling most of the soldiers can relate to. The grim atmosphere lifts, every word Leo sings like a lifeline for the weary troops. 

The arrow comes out of nowhere.

The camp erupts into chaos before Mila can fully comprehend what is happening. She sees Leo collapse, the arrow piercing his throat. Her limbs are moving before she knows what she is doing. There are enemy troops moving into the camp as she drops to her knees in front of Leo. Her hands are on the arrow, about to pull when a hand to her shoulder stops her. She almost lashes out, barely reigning herself in when she identifies the person as Otabek. Leo coughs up blood, his eyes rolling into his head. Otabek eyes her cautiously, then lifts Leo onto his shoulder. The older boy wheezes, more blood spilling from his mouth.

“Get the troops under control, I’ll get him out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you two. This is  _ madness _ . We won’t be able to regain control now. We should flee.”

“General Morooka will never allow that. You don’t need to make yourself a fugitive. You have people waiting for you to return, don’t you?”

Mila grits her teeth. “And you don’t?”

Otabek pauses before smiling wistfully. “Yuri needs you more than he needs me. You’re like a sister to him. It won’t take him too long to forget. And no matter what, he should not be affiliated with a deserter.”

Mila bites her lip, her chest clenching. Then the order is shouted. 

“Retreat! Take the wounded and flee west!”

For the first time since they arrived at the front, the soldiers actually listen. She can see general Morooka angrily shouting at the fleeing guards but to no avail. Mila’s words are something they have been waiting for ever since they were put on the mission of subjugate the border towns.

Otabek looks conflicted for a second, but then he nods to Mila and sets off towards the forest. Mila keeps her sword ready at all times, both to fend off the enemy, but also in case Mooroka succeeds in gaining control over the mess. She might have doomed herself to a life in hiding, but that doesn’t mean she will let herself be cut down easily.

“We should split up. We’re easy prey like this,” Otabek wheezes. Although he hasn't sustained any serious injury, carrying Leo is obviously wearing him out. Mila nods, casting a glance over her shoulder to ensure they’re alone.

“There should be a doctor in the town on the other side of the woods. Do not reveal the circumstances. Make sure to get him treated, and then we can rendezvous by the northern passage in three days.”

“Take care Mila.”

“I will.”

Otabek gives her a thumb up, then takes off into the woods, leaving Mila behind. She sighs, taking a quick look around to assess her surroundings. There are a few confused guards stumbling around at the edges, but so far, none of the enemy forces have made it this far yet. She fastens her grip on the hilt of the sword, moving down a path leading in the opposite direction Otabek and Leo went. She takes her time, making sure to make her footprints easy to track. If the enemy finds them, she’d rather they follow her than the others.

She doesn’t know how long or how far she has walked when she feels too exhausted to continue. She quickly sets up a makeshift camp. Her few belongings are safely kept in the rucksack she uses as a pillow. It only takes a few minutes for her to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

She is awoken by the feeling that something is off. Maybe it is her years of training as a guard, or that her experiences in the northern mountains are still so ingrained in her that even the slightest sound could wake her. Especially out in the wild.

She is wide awake within seconds. The forest is unnaturally quiet, as if it is holding its breath. Mila instinctively grabs her sword, muscles ready to either fight or flee. She holds her breath, watching as it turns to mist in the cold morning air. Another rustle has her snap her head around to identify it, but she doesn’t see anything. 

She rises, threading almost soundlessly on the damp ground. Even when hunted, she prefers to take on the role as predator. Prey has never been something she sympathised with. Whatever was closing in on her must have realised their mistake as the thickets off to her left starts rustling, her stalker moving away from the scene.

Mila grins to herself, setting after it. She almost misses the shape of a small human dressed in clothes made to blend in with the greens of the forest. She knocks their legs out from underneath them, pointingher sword at their throat. 

The sight that meets her is not what she expected. The boy can hardly be older than Yuri, maybe younger. He is clutching a knife in one hand, his chest rising and falling rapidly in panic. A small gash runs across his forehead. The blood has already dried. She lets her sword drop to her side. She can’t. It is so wrong in so many ways. The kid probably doesn’t even want to be in the war.

_ Does anyone? _

She expects him to flee as soon as she lowers her sword, but he doesn’t. He just sits on the ground, staring wide eyed up at her. Something twists in Mila’s heart. She bends down, showing him her palms to ensure him she isn’t going to hurt him. The kid still doesn’t react.

“It is okay. I don’t want to hurt you. Do you need help getting back home? I’ll follow you there.”

The kid flinches away from her, his grip on the knife tightening. Mila sits down on her knees in front of him. “What is your name?”

No reply. She puts her hands on her knees and doesn't move any closer, afraid that she might scare the child. They sit there for a minute, never taking their eyes of each other. Mila relaxes into her position. She is still tired from commanding the unwilling troops, not to mention from running away. It barely registers when the kid starts to move. He is hesitant at first, his mouth drawn in a thin line. At first, Mila thinks he might have decided to run anyway.

What she doesn’t expect is the wet feeling of her tunic soaking up her blood. The boy is still staring wide eyed at her, even as he lets go of the knife that is now embedded deep into Mila’s shoulder. She is too shocked to react at first, but then she feels the pain. The boy quivers, tears almost spilling from his eyes, and then he turns and runs. 

Mila gasps, trying to reach the knife with her functioning hand, but she is already starting to feel dizzy. Her hand clamps on the necklace she got from Sara before she left instead. She isn’t religious, but as she slips into unconsciousness, she prays that Otabek and Leo made it back safely.

 

* * *

The news about the loss of territory spreads faster than wildfire. The general perception seems to be that the fault lies in the troops, as the scarce amount of actual military is still successfully holding on to the southern borders. Yuuri watches it all unfold at a scary pace. The villagers that once praised the guards for their work has taken to shunning their names, greedily muttering about the reward for exposing a deserter.

He has to keep Phichit from confronting them a total of seven time when they walk into town to fetch som greens. As much as he would have loved to say a thing or two to some people himself, he can tell the situation is fragile. He spends their entire visit downtown analysing people’s emotions and the subtle shifts in them. 

What gets him the most is the conflicted feelings he can sense in the youth of the town. The worry of the fisherman’s daughter as she keeps throwing glances at the castle. The fear Minami feels when his grandmother ask him for his opinion on the matter. The sadness Emil radiates when an elderly man says it would be for the best if they all perished in the woods.

It almost becomes too much for him to handle. That night he sits in his room with only Vicchan for company, relishing the quietness of the space. His thoughts, for some reason, find their way to Viktor.

It has been years since he declared himself over the obsession with the older mage. Of course, he would listen with interest anytime Viktor was brought up. But if anyone even asked him, he does not, have an obsession with Viktor Nikiforov. It still bothers him to some degree. Did Viktor have an inkling about what was going to happen at the borders? The warnings seemed empty and almost mocking when Yuuri met him downtown. Now he isn’t sure anymore. Viktor is working directly under the king. Was he a part of the plan to send the guards  in?

The door creaks open, revealing Phichit with a plate of food. Rice and vegetables. It is simple, which is fine, since Yuuri isn’t sure he’d be able to stomach anything more complicated at the moment. He makes a sound of approval as Phichit hands him the plate, gratefully shoving the food into his mouth.

“Are you feeling okay?” Phichit asks. He hands Yuuri a small pendant. It is beautifully crafted from light blue stone and copper wire. “Moonstone. I found it among the leftover books in the greenhouse. It is supposed to be good for balancing emotions.”

“Thank you, Phichit.” Yuuri slips the necklace over his head. He doesn’t feel any different, but the fact that Phichit thought of him when he heard the meaning still warms his heart. 

“Was Ciao Ciao still working?” Yuuri asks. Phichit shrugs. He sits down on his bed, shedding his clothes in a messy pile on the floor. His hair is standing out in all sorts of odd directions. He pulls the cover up and snuggles into the blankets, his eyes peeking over the edge of his blanket.

“He seemed stressed. I think he received a letter from the king again. I don’t think he’s been dismissed as court magician yet, but you know how protective he is of his position.”

Yuuri nods. His mind strays to Viktor’s words again.  _ Should you feel like this doesn't agree with you, don't hesitate to come to me. _ Does he disagree with the way Ciao Ciao works? Is he happy? He always thought that he was. That being around other magicians would make him feel at peace. He never stopped to consider that things were hurting him in any way. He tries to sleep without succeding for what feels like a small eternity. Both Vicchan and Phichit are sleeping soundly when he slips out of his bed and pads over to Ciao Ciao’s room. 

The room is illuminated by a set of floating orbs. They hover lazily in the air, bathing the messy room in a soft orange hue. Ciao Ciao is sitting at his desk with a conjured flame heating up one of the small cauldrons he keep in his room. 

“Is there anything you need, Yuuri?”

Ciao Ciao’s voice is  weary. He is wearing his round-rimmed reading glasses, which only add to the image of a tired old man. 

“I couldn’t sleep. Do you need any help?”

“Crush those leaves over there, will you?”

Yuuri nods, gathering up the leaves in question, mashing them in a mortar. It calms him, to be able to put himself into mindless work for a while. Still, he can sense just how stressed Ciao Ciao is. 

“How was your meeting today?”

Yuuri hands the mashed herbs over to Celestino. The potion turns a vivid yellow when he adds them into it.

“The country has never been more in need of my assistance. I've got an order of hundred different potions for next week. Of course, the situation is dire, but you know how much better the result are when you have time to put some real time and effort into the brewing. Do not forget that, Yuuri, a potion isn't too unlike your gift. It demands that you sense how it is doing, that you know just how much you need to deviate from the recipe.”

Yuuri nods. It fills him with warmth whenever Ciao Ciao starts to lecture him about magic. The feeling he radiates is similar to that of a young child showing their parents their passion.

“I guess it is too dangerous to send you out in the field yourself. It is a shame though. Seeing the awe on people's faces when you heal them.” Yuuri trails of, glancing over at Ciao Ciao. He is staring intently at the potion. It has taken on a putrid green colour by now, very unlike any any healing potion Yuuri has ever seen.

“That's what these are, right Ciao Ciao?”

“You don't win a war by healing people, Yuuri. We will do what is necessary. I've ensured these will lead to a quick painless death for whoever that might be unfortunate enough to be on the wrong side of the conflict.”

“Ciao Ciao.” The nickname feels heavy on Yuuri’s tongue. “The conflict is lost already. I can't see why this would be necessary.”

“The days of voluntary service is over. Anyone fit between 18 and 50 will be drafted into the army without pay. That's the final decision made at the last meeting. I know you disagree with this, but please do not openly oppose the officials. The council was already reluctant to exempt you and Phichit from duty.”

“This is madness.”

“Do you think I don’t know!?” Yuuri flinches as Celestino’s fist hits the desk. “We do what we need to survive. As soon as we gain back the territories in the east, things will settle down. Be glad the emperor hasn’t lifted a finger to help those poor souls. It could have been a lot bloodier.Now don't question it any further.”

They finish the potion in silence. Yuuri excuses himself by the time Celestino is about to start on a new potion. The older man waves him off and returns to work without a word. 

When he returns to bed, he still isn't able to sleep. His mind keeps returning to one thought:

_ I need to find Viktor. _

 

* * *

_ Phichit shivers as a hand runs through his hair, brushing his bangs away from his face. He holds back a content sigh, afraid that it will ruin the moment. He forces himself to keep his eyes open, fixed on dark narrowed eyes that stares unrelentingly at him. Seung-Gil’s eyes remind him of the sea on a stormy day. Cool and almost detached with, an underlying rage ready to devour anything in its way. _

_ It is intoxicating being this close to him. It feels like a force is pulling Phichit toward him, like birds falling to the earth after being shot. Phichit feels unwilling to fly, content with the figurative arrow piercing his and rendering him unable to get away.  _

_ Their faces are close enough for Phichit to feel Seung-Gil’s breath on his face. If he leaned in a little closer, they would be kissing. _

_ “You’re not real, are you? This is all a dream.” _

_ Seung-Gil doesn’t answer. Fingers touch Phichit’s lips gently, creating more distance between them but dragging him in deeper all at once. It makes Phichit feel like he is plummeting through the air at high speed. Seung-Gil’s expression doesn’t change. He leans back, a single tear trailing down his cheeks, even though his eyes show no sign of crying. Phichit reaches out to wipe it away, but is stopped by a hand clutching around his wrists. Phichit almost screams when he sees the fingers stained red.  _

_ His surroundings become clearer. They’re in the throne room again. How did he not notice before? Seung-Gil quivers in front of him, his grip on Phichit’s wrist loosening. The moment it is loose enough for Phichit to wrench himself free, he is stumbling away from Seung-Gil. _

_ He doesn’t try to follow. More tears fall from his eyes. The blood is everywhere. On the throne, on the floor. It trails an uneven line across the stone tiles where Seung-Gil is sitting on his knees, fingers clutching at his trousers.  _

_ What really makes Phichit want to run is the shape of a body lying lifeless at the foot of the throne. The royal circlet is lying in front of it, the silver glistening sickly.  _

_ “Behind you.”  _

_ Phichit snaps his head up. The familiar words send a shiver down his spine. He slowly peeks over his shoulder, expecting to find nothing. There has never been anything there. Except this time there is. The last thing he sees is a woman in a black cloak reach out towards him. _

He feels like he cannot breathe. Even with the window open the, air just doesn’t want to stay in his lungs. He gasps, tumbling out of his bed. Yuuri stirs in his cot, squinting at him with tired eyes.

“Phichit? Are you alright?”

Phichit is on his feet the moment he can breathe normally again. He snatches the book on dream symbolism off his nightstand and hurries out the door. He can only hope he is not too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry please don't kill me
> 
> Huge thanks to Gliss for putting up with me as always :')
> 
> You can find me at Sheepottetradecagon.tumblr.com


	8. Ashes ashes we all fall down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Attempt at asphyxiation

The castle has become more or less unbearable the last few days. The king of course, seems to do everything in his power to piss Yuri off. The tension in the air is apparent no matter where one goes. The servants whisper among themselves, never revealing whose side they’re really on. To them, any gossip is a way to spice up their bland everyday lives. Yuri despise them all. 

The council meetings are an explosion waiting to happen. Although no one directly opposes the king, it is clearly a divided opinion on the case. Viktor literally had to cast a muting spell on Yuri to keep him from saying something he would regret. It is infuriating. Yakov did not send them to sweet talk with the old lump of useless trash that the people call king. Yuri doesn’t get how Viktor can be so calm about it all. Of course, he doesn’t have to babysit JJ through it all. Yuri is starting to think his hours spent with the prince is the biggest factor in his quickly deteriorating patience.  

JJ himself seems to be almost as upset as Yuri, although for vastly different reasons. Somehow, the fact that their troops are scattered to the winds pales in comparison to the fact that the king won’t entrust JJ with any responsibility on the matter. They find an agreement through silence, neither bringing up their problems while in each other’s presence. Currently, they’re sitting in his room, a group of jesters performing some sort of dance. Their garish clothes make Yuri’s eyes hurt. However, he knows better than to snap at JJ for his poor choice in entertainment. He’s already been threatened with being sent home several times.

Sadly, not even the jesters seem to be able to lift JJ’s spirits. He dismisses them with the wave of a hand, plunging the room into silence. The shadows become more prominent against the stone walls as the jesters and their colourful garments exit. Yuri continues to look out of the window, his eyes scanning for some sign that isn’t there. He can see the bay clearly from his position in the window post. The waves froth angrily against the steep cliffs underneath the castle. 

“Yura”. 

“Don’t.” Yuri burrows deeper into the blanket he has wrapped around himself. JJ crosses his arms over his chest, sending him a disdainful look.

“What? Is Otabek the only one who’s allowed to consider you a friend now?” Yuri glances up without responding. It is true that Otabek is the only one he truly considers a friend out of all the people in the south. He would never have imagined the title was something JJ wanted. 

“I’m not like my parents. I want to be liked by all my people. Not just the rich ones,”JJ murmurs, his voice bordering on hurt.

“Isn’t that just another selfish motive?” 

JJ shifts. He runs his hand through his hair, leaning back against the wall. The smile on his face holds a certain bitterness to it.

“I never wanted us to be enemies Yuri.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything? You knew what your father was planning. You could have stopped him-”

“I have  _ no _ power! I don’t decide  _ anything _ . As far as anyone in this country is concerned, I’m just a selfish bastard who enjoys to party. Don’t put the blame of your loss on me.” 

Yuri looks out the window again, not able to meet JJ’s broken expression. The sun is hanging low in the horizon, a blood red disc singing its last song of the evening as it slowly descends from its stage. Yuri sighs as the last rays gives in to the night, leaving the tall mountain ranges beyond shrouded in dark. A sense of hopelessness is setting in. 

His only solitude, but simultaneously the root to his worries, is that Otabek was not among the soldiers that returned. In many ways he is relieved. The authorities would no doubt have had him hanged for treason. It is unclear who was in on it or not, but according to a half insane general Morooka, the commanders were to blame. 

“If it was for the sake of the country, would you go against your father?”

Yuri doesn’t need to turn in order to know what expression JJ is making. It’s the same face he’ll use when he thinks nobody is watching. The one whose eyes are wide with confusion bordering on fear. The one that screams both look and do not look at the same time. It is easy to forget that aside from his title, JJ is just as human as the next person. Yuri’s thoughts flit to his promise to Isabella. 

“How would you know it is for the -”

“Just answer the goddamn question,” Yuri snaps. His already poor patience has been a thin string ever since the better part of the royal guard went missing. Future king or not, JJ doesn’t get any special treatment. 

“I can’t.”

“Would you aid anyone trying to replace him then.”

“Why are you suddenly asking all these questions?” Yuri turns around. JJ has risen from his place on the bed. He is approaching Yuri slowly.

“I think we both know this cannot go on. Just use your eyes! What have these war brought our country? Resources? The men lost far outweigh the assets we earn from unjustly colonising border towns.”

“Yuri…”

“People will trust you blindly. If you’re so much better, then prove it!”

“Don’t criticise the king. It’s unseemingly.”

“Or what?”

JJ scowls at him. Yuri grits his teeth, clenching his fists to keep them from grabbing JJ’s shirt. They stare at each other, both too stubborn to yield. A knock on the door breaks the invisible force between them, shifting their attention. It slides open with a creak, a small head peeking in. Yuri recognises the person as the messenger that the court mage sometimes uses. Apparently he’s older than Yuri himself, although Yuri still has a hard time believing that.

“A message for you, your highness.” He holds out a scroll of parchment tied neatly with a red bow. JJ hurries over to the boy, ruffling his hair while muttering a small thanks. The boy looks like he’s about to faint, eyes wide in awe as JJ unties the bow. Yuri huffs at the display. He is half tempted to make a rude comment about how JJ is not worth being starstruck over, but decides against it. Yet another factor that could lead to him being sent home. 

JJ’s eyes scan the letters quickly. He thanks the boy once again, motioning for Yuri to follow him. Yuri reluctantly unwinds himself from his blanket, trailing after JJ at an apathetic pace. It becomes evident that JJ is headed outside the castle after dodging the few guards left. 

There’s no one out on the streets when they exit the front gate, giving the town an eerie feel. Yuri keeps a stun spell on the tip of his tongue just in case. JJ leads them down to the docks, his stride determined. He stops outside the fisherman’s house, pushing the door open without knocking. Yuri barely have time to follow before Isabella shuts the door behind him.

“Where are they?” JJ says, pushing past Isabella.

“They’re not in any shape to converse with you, calm down.” Isabella tries to pull JJ into a hug, but desperate hands wave her away. Yuri doesn’t think he has seen JJ this upset since his aunt passed away. 

“I only informed you of this because it would be treason not to, but I request that you consider your potions well before you act.”

“You know I don’t have any.”

“What’s going on?” They both turn to Yuri, eyes surprised, as if they’d forgotten presence for a moment. 

“Why did you bring  _ him? _ This complicates things further.”

“Well, I’m not allowed to go out alone. You know that.”

“Someone  _ tell me _ ,” Yuri demands. He looks into Isabella’s eyes, begging her to let him in on whatever secret they’re keeping from him. She in turn shifts her attention back to JJ, who is standing stone faced by the door. His jaw is tense, everything about his posture revealing his unease. 

“Deserters. She’s harbouring deserters.” JJ turns to Isabella, as if to say he wishes she weren’t in the first place. She doesn’t move from where she stands, tears gathering i but never falling across her defiant expression. 

“No one needs to know,” Yuri mutters, trying to pull JJ with him out the door. The older man holds his ground, never taking his eyes of Isabella.

“These do. If anyone finds out she’s been harbouring the commanders, she will be punished with a life sentence. I can’t let that happen.”

“The commanders are  _ here?” _

“Yuri. If JJ choses to hand them over, there is nothing we can do.” Yuri snaps his head towards Isabella. Here eyes bore into him. Begs him to believe what she believes.  _ JJ will do the right thing _ . Yuri does not feel as certain.

“No one needs to know.”

“How can you be sure no one will find outt?” JJ snaps. His hands are clenched at his sides. 

“We’ll work this out somehow.”

“I can’t endanger Isabella and her family like this.”

“I can’t let you endanger my friends,” Yuri seethes, pushing JJ up against the wall in a choke hold. The glass jars on the shelf rattles above them. He can hear Isabella screaming behind him, but the sound belongs to a different reality. His fingers tighten their grip, making JJ cough and claw panickedly at his hands. Yuri reaches within himself, ready to call on his ice magic when a strong set of arms circle his waist, pulling him away from JJ, who falls forward onto his knees with a gasp. Isabella is immediately at his side, hands gently assessing the damage done to the prince’s throat. 

Yuri lashes out, expecting to find Isabella’s father, but is instead met with the gentle eyes of Otabek. He deflates, the fight going out of him instantly. Of course Otabek is alive. Of course he would be there to stop Yuri from committing the worst sin. Otabek has never failed to guide him down the right path. Yuri feels like a lost ship returning to its harbour. 

“That was stupid of you,” Otabek mutters. Yuri closes his eyes to keep tears from spilling. He doesn’t care that Otabek is practically scolding him. He thought he’d never hear that voice again. 

“I can’t believe you’re all here.”

Otabek hesitates but doesn’t say anything.

Yuri taps Otabek’s hands in order to tell him it is safe to let him go. They loosen their grip cautiously, ready to hold him back should he do something he might regret.

JJ is on his feet, his legs a bit shaky, but otherwise fine. He doesn’t look Yuri in the eye, hands clutching the green pendant he always wears. It is shaped like a peacock feather, set with a beautiful oval stone. Isabella guides the prince over to a chair where he slumps lifelessly, hand still clutching his pendant. 

An apology hangs on the tip of Yuri’s tongue. He wants to get over with it, blame his actions on lack of sleep and too much stress, but for some reason, he can’t. He doesn’t want to. It scares him that he was capable of going after the life of another human being like that, but he cannot make himself regret it. He wonders if his grandfather was ever in a situation like this.

Yuri hugs himself, refusing to look anywhere near JJ. His position as the fool’s bodyguard is as good as done for. He doubts JJ will ever feel safe enough to entrust him with his life after this. Worst of all, it probably voids any chance of reassuming his grandfather’s position. The thought of going back to the north again sickens him. 

He glances up at Otabek. Is he disappointed? Yuri would hate for Otabek to be disappointed in him. Otabek doesn’t spare him a glance. He settles down in front of JJ on his knees, murmuring an apology, then nodding to the prince as if he is actually worthy of Otabek’s respect after what he considered doing to him. 

JJ sighs, then rips the chain with the peacock pendant off his neck, throwing it to the floor. Too late, Yuri recognises it for what it really is. Of course the king wouldn’t be dumb enough to let Yuri be JJ’s sole protection.

The amulet’s stone shatters on the floor, a bright light sweeping through the room. He grasps for Otabek to tell him to run, pulling him frantically toward the doorway, but to no avail. The door is knocked in by a group of aspirant guards lead by none other than Viktor himself. Yuri freezes. He wants to melt into the ground. Block out Viktor’s disappointed voice as he utters the words:

“Yuri Plisetsky. You are under arrest.”

* * *

The first day after his encounter with Phichit Seung-Gil is in denial. He passive aggressively tries to force Min-So to reveal what she knows but to no avail. It isn’t like he expected to get anything out of it, but he still feels disappointed. The second day, he makes peace with the fact that his family is no more. It isn’t like he was planning on returning to them anyway. He tries to tell himself that in the big picture, it doesn’t matter whether they live or die. On the third day, he sets his plan into motion.

He pretends to be on the look for someone to substitute, as according to Min-So’s plan. In reality, he is waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. It is well past midnight when he steps out from the shadows of the old oak tree outside the castle. He’s been watching the movements of the people all day. Jinju trails after him as he approaches the gate. He pats her head, telling her to stand by until he gets back. Hopefully he will get back. He owes her as much now that the rest of his family is no more.

The guards at the gate are restless, a lot younger than the usual ones. Judging by their appearance, they’re barely teens. Too young to join the war, but mature enough to be saddled with such an important task. Seung-Gil could easily have taken them out. He knows many ways to kill. Instead, he simply puts a sleeping spell on them. It isn’t strong enough to knock them out for long, but he doesn’t need much time.

He finds the side door of the castle in the gardens that Sara described, unlocking it with another spell, no match for his natural abilities. It makes him feel restless. 

Guards drop at his feet as he moves through the long hallways. The grand pillars and the feeling of power and grandeur the building gives off reminds him of what used to be the city hall iof his home town. No doubt nothing but ash and dust by now. He grits his teeth and moves on. 

According to Sara, the king can often be found in the throne room during the night due to his insomnia. “ _ Too proud to accept help _ ,” She’d told him. “ _ No one really understands how he thinks. Be wary of him.” _

Seung-Gil stops outside the door leading into the throne room, taking a deep breath. Everything could end tonight. All the misery he and his people have been through the past decades. He has the chance to put a stop to it. It almost feels like the climax of a music piece, the last notes shrill and trembling. He readies himself by creating a shield around himself with his ability to condense water in the air. It feels cool against his skin.

The door doesn’t slam open. There is no dramatic flair. Just the huge gate slowly swinging open, revealing the room inside. Seung-Gil’s hand is on the knife at his hip, ready to throw. He steps into the moonlit room, eyes darting from one corner to the other.

The place is stunning, huge embroidered drapes covering the walls behind beautifully crafted pillars. A stone throne is situated at the end of the room, blood red cushions serving as the user’s only comfort. There are a few tables with small plates of fruit on them. A red carpet stretches over the expanse between the throne and the doors.

The throne is empty.

Seung-Gil swears, fingers tightening around his dagger. He cannot afford to lose his calm. Maybe the king is actually sleeping for a change. The possibilities are infinite. Seung-Gil pushes his brain into creating a new plan for him. He is no stranger to changing strategy during a mission. Of course, that doesn’t make the butter taste of a let down after being so close to achieving his goal any better.

He sheathes his knife again, turning to head back out into the hallways again. He can vaguely remember Sara describing the directions to the king’s chambre. It might take him some time to find it, but he still has enough capacity for another dozen sleeping spells, in addition to his natural abilities which don’t require half the amount of energy that spells do. No matter what, he is not leaving the castle without results.

It is almost ironic that the door behind the throne opens just as he is about to leave. 

Seung-Gil doesn’t turn around, giving the other person time to enter the room. If it is the king, he doesn’t want to alert him of his presence before the last possible moment. Seung-Gil is fast, but he doesn’t take chances. Gambling is for idiots who have nothing to lose. As much as Seung-Gil has suffered, he still doesn’t feel like he has reached the bottom just yet.

The room grows silent as the other person discovers him. They don't say anything. Seung-Gil responds with silence in turn. The moment drags out, seconds gliding into the quiet emptiness of the moonlit room. They breathe, neither daring to move. 

Seung-Gil ducks at the smallest shift in the air, just in time to avoid a fist whizzing past his head. He spins around, trying to get an overview of the situation. His opponent is unexpectedly agile, his repeated punches towards Seung-Gil’s throat giving him no chance to form a spell. He can only shield himself with his natural ability, close combat a weak point in his skill set.

A particularly well aimed punch sends him crashing into the cold stone floor, his left cheek burning. His attacker towers above him, the royal brooch glinting in the dull light from where it is pinned at the person’s cape. 

_ So close. _

The person takes another step towards him, the light falling upon his face, revealing a young man with tired eyes. His hands are gripping the hilt of a sword, still sheathed. 

_ He’s not the king. Just the goddamn prince. _

Seung-Gil laughs. For the first time in years, he allows himself to laugh freely. His voice echoes through the huge room, casting it back towards him tenfold. The prince tightens his grip on the sword, his expression uncertain.

“Who are you?”

Seung-Gil doesn’t reply. His laughter dies down, the ridiculousness of the situation settling in. He was so close, and now, he might die without having accomplished anything.

“Answer me!” The prince demands. He doesn’t look much like his father. His body is more lanky, his eyes more uncertain. Seung-Gil has seen the king a handful of times as he ventured out into the town. The prince pales in comparison. To Seung-Gil, he looks just like any other man.

Any other man. An easy prey. Seung-Gil knows over twenty incantations that could easily kill a man, five of which only required three words if wielded correctly. He weighs them on the tip of his tongue. The revenge wouldn’t be as sweet, and he would still have to go after the king to solve anything, but he’s sure it would be satisfying nonetheless. To watch the fat pig’s face as he saw his family stripped away, just like Seung-Gil’s.

The composition of the spell takes form. The words leave his mouth. The incantation comes into existence before him before dissapating. 

“I thought you were better than this,” Phichit mutters.

* * *

The uneven path up to the castle feels longer than it has. Phichit’s lungs burn as he forces his legs to move faster. He prays that he isn’t too late. The castle comes into view, fueling his frantic running. Adrenaline surges through his veins, propelling him forwards.

_ If I couldn’t stop it I wouldn’t have had the vision, right? _

Phichit doesn’t know enough about his ability to come to that conclusion, but it doesn’t make him hold onto it any less. If he was the creator of the world, he wouldn’t have made such a rare ability useless. Sadly, the world is much more chaotic and arbitrary than he’d like to admit.

He runs up the stairs leading up from the side passage in the gardens, nearly falling several times. His body feels like it is going to collapse any minute, but the sight of the young aspirants lying lifeless in the hallways is enough to keep him going. 

His heart beats like a massive drum in his chest, drowning out all sound. He can barely hear his own feet slapping against the stone tiles or his lungs hungrily sucking in air. The world seems to slow down as he skids to a stop outside the throne room. 

Someone is shouting inside. The voice is familiar, but twisted with anger and fear, leaving goosebumps down Phichit’s arms. Then there's the laughter. Cold and manically explosive at the same time. It stirs his insides uncomfortably. It is  _ wrong _ .

Phichit almost cries in relief when it stops. He peeks in, eyes finding the sight he was afraid of the whole time.

_ Seung-Gil. _

Seung-Gil and JJ. At first glance, it looks like JJ has everything under control, but a quick assessment of the situation tells him otherwise. He's just in time. He deflects Seung-Gil’s spell just as it leaves his lips.

“I thought you were better than this.” His voice is accusing. Hurt. He can't help but get emotional. Even though Seung-Gil knows nothing about his feelings. He lets himself sink to his knees, his body exhausted from the run. If Seung-Gil decides to try another spell, Phichit doesn’t know if he will have any energy left to deflect it. 

“Please, don’t hurt each other.” Phichit doesn’t try to hide the fact that he is bawling like a small child. He is too happy that he made it in time, in addition to the underlying fear that even if he’s saved them from tearing each other apart, he might not prevent their deaths.

JJ is the first one to let go of his weapon. Then Seung-Gil’s barrier follows. 

“Phichit what, are you doing here?” Seung-Gil asks. JJ doesn’t try to hinder him when he crawls over to where Phichit is sitting. Gentle hands brush away his tears. Phichit laughs humorlessly, clutching Seung-Gil’s shoulders. 

“I couldn’t let you make a fool of yourself, could I? You’re the only one who knows anything about my ability, after all.” 

“I never said I’d tell you anything,” Seung-Gil mutters, although there is no venom in his voice. He just sounds tired, and sad. 

“Well, I’ve decided this is your job from now on. I’m sure the prince will forget this ever happened if we promise to leave him and the king alone, right your highness?”

“I-” JJ nods. “Just don’t let me see him around again.” 

“See?” Phichit tugs at Seung-Gil’s arm, hoping he will have enough sense to let whatever grudge he might hold against the royals go. Phichit manages to get him to his feet. A tiny hope fills his chest. Then the whole building shakes, the beautiful mosaic windows shattering, glass shards raining down to the floor. The shaking subsides after a few minutes.

“What the hell was that?” JJ exclaims. They pause, listening. Phichit frowns, trying to identify the rapidly increasing sound coming from above them.

“Is that… screaming?” Seung-Gil asks. His face is back to his normal neutral expression, brows scrunched together as he looks up into the high ceiling.

“Something is happening on the higher floors. Your majesty, what’s above the throne room?”

JJ turns toward Phichit, confused for a second, then realisation dawns on him. “My father’s chambers.”  He makes a beeline for the door, but Seung-Gil stops him. JJ struggles against Seung-Gil’s grip, mouth spilling words a royal family member shouldn’t be saying.

“If you go up there you’ll be playing right into their hands. This is no random attack.” JJ stares at the older boy in disbelief. 

“That’s something coming from the guy who just tried to kill me,” he replies coldly. Phichit hugs himself, a separation spell ready just in case.

“I need to know. Are there any other mages in the building?”

JJ sputters. His eyes land on Phichit, who nods. Even though he doesn’t know his motives yet, Phichit trusts Seung-Gil enough to have JJ reveal the information.

“Viktor lives in town. Said he wanted to enjoy the southerner life to the fullest and that living in the castle prevented him from it. And Yuri. He’s in the dungeons with the other prisoners. Why do you need to know this?”

“Because if this mage thinks someone might be a threat to her, she will go after them first. This Yuri you’re speaking of... is it dangerous to let him loose?”

“He’s a kid,” Phichit shoots in. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Good. Phichit, you go inform the mage in town about the situation, and then I’ll try my best to keep Min-So in check.”

“What? I can’t let you handle her on her own. I’m not leaving you.”

Seung-Gil grits his teeth. “Just do as I ask. We can’t afford to lose any time. If we survive this, I’ll teach you how to control your ability.”

Phichit bites his lip. It is unfair of Seung-Gil to pull something like this. He knows it is something Phichit can't say no to. It makes Phichit wish there were a spell to temporarily duplicate himself. Instead, he nods, stepping up on his toes to press a kiss to Seung-Gil’s cheek. His cheeks turn a vivid shade of red, much to Phichit’s satisfaction.

“You better keep that stubborn ass of yours alive until I get back.”

Phichit doesn’t know if he is just hearing things, but as he passes Seung-Gil to exit the door, he thinks he can hear a low voice saying, “I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse my lateness and bad characterisation for this chapter. It was hell to write.  
> As always huge thanks to Gliss for putting up with me and my shitty grammar, you're a saint (￣▽￣)
> 
> The author can be found at sheepouttetradecagon.tumblr.com, feel free to come kick me in the side for putting yu through this. Thanks for reading!


	9. Flight

There are many people who would call Viktor extra. Sometimes the reason is evident, and sometime it is not. Either way, Viktor has always been a man who prides himself in living life by his own rules. What might seem like arbitrary behavior to others, usually has a deeper meaning behind it. 

This time, though, he admits that to stay in town rather than in the castle was a decision made solely to give him some time away from the drama. Not to say Viktor doesn’t like gossip as much as the next person, but an entire court constantly squabbling is too much even for him. Of course, when he decided to stay alone, he had expected his peace to be respected. In other words, he did not expect someone knocking on his door in the middle of the night. 

At first, he simply considers to ignore it. If it is work related, it can probably wait until the next morning. The guards have no sense of privacy. The sound of barking is what changes his mind. He drags himself out of bed, throwing on a pair of pants before heading over to the door.

On the other side, a slightly dishevelled Yuuri is waiting for him with a brown dog. The younger man jumps as the door opens, his hands flailing for a second before he crams them into his armpits in a tense self-hug. Viktor resists the urge to tease him for it. Although they have only met twice, he already feels like he is getting a good picture of the younger mage’s personality. 

“What can I do for you Yuuri?” Viktor flashes his brightest smile, the earlier feeling of drowsiness gone. Yuuri shivers, eyes trailing up Viktor’s bare torso, his cheeks redden.

“Can we head inside, please?” 

Viktor gestures for Yuuri to follow him into the small house. It isn’t much. Just a bed, a fireplace and a rickety chair shoved up against a small table. It took Viktor a lot of charm to convince the owner to let him use the rundown shack, but it is preferable to the old castle rooms. He shoves the chair up to the fireplace, throwing another log into the hearth to get the fire burning again. Yuuri huddles gratefully in the blanket he’s offered, eyes transfixed by the flames, his dog lying down at his feet. 

“So what brings you here?” Viktor asks, shuffling around until he finds a shirt to wear. Yuuri sniffles from the cold, glancing over his shoulder.

“I’m not sure,” he mumbles. The sheen of the fire reflects off his glasses as he turns back around to stare at the fireplace. Viktor settles on the edge of his bed. Normally, he would have pushed for answers, but after their last encounter, he is afraid to scare him. Viktor knows he can be abrasive and too straightforward sometimes, but there are a few things that can make him filter his words before they leave his mouth. He cannot remember the last time that something was a person.

“My mentor,” Yuuri begins. He meets Viktor’s eyes tentatively. “You were right. I should have believed you back then.” 

Viktor doesn’t know what to say. For one thing, he feels smug about being right, but he isn’t dumb enough to tell Yuuri that. He settles on a safer alternative.

“What do you wish to do now? I assume you came here for a reason. Do you need a new mentor? I could be that for you, though keep in mind, I have never witnessed anyone with your ability before.”

“What?” Yuuri shakes his head. “No. I need… I just need some time to think. I wouldn’t want to bother you with that responsibility.”

“I wouldn’t mind at all.”’

It doesn’t register just how close they are before Yuuri quickly shoves himself and his chair backwards with a yelp. Viktor silently berates himself for being too forward. He feels like he’s been stripped of his ability to function; every move he makes a wrong step. He wants nothing more than to understand Yuuri. To satisfy his curiosity. 

They’re saved from the awkward silence by another knock to the door. Viktor frowns. There are only so many times his peace can be violated in one night before he feels attacked. He rises with a sigh, dragging himself over to the door to answer it.

A body nearly collides with his as the door swings inwards, the person outside stumbling with a surprised yelp. Viktor sniffles, recognising the visitor as Yuuri’s loose-mouthed friend from before. He closes the door behind the kid with a huff.

“Did you tell the entire town about my whereabouts?”

“What? No.” Yuuri scrambles over to his friend. “What are you  _ doing _ here?”

“I need you both to come quick.” The words spill from the boy’s mouth at a nearly unintelligible pace. 

“Is something wrong?”

“A mage is attacking the castle.”

* * *

The passage leading down to the dungeons has never felt so long. JJ is slightly out of breath when he finally reach the bottom of the stairs. He snags a torch from the wall, keeping the other one on the wall in order not to fall on the slippery cobblestone. Every minute or so the building shakes with shocks from whatever is going on upstairs. He has to give everything he has just to avoid falling onto the damp floor. The place reeks of mold and old moss. There is a reason JJ doesn’t venture down there often.

Finding the right cell takes him some time. He makes sure not to reveal his identity, knowing that his presence would be enough to cause a ruckus. There are few prisoners who wouldn’t consider the royal family enemies. He can’t really blame them. The conditions they’re currently living under aren’t exactly of prime quality. He tries his best to block out the desperate prayers and screams as the building shakes. 

After several rounds in the little maze he finds the door he is looking for. He doesn’t need to check the piece of parchment pinned to the wall, that provides the guards with the names of the inmates. The sick coughing gives it away. It sends chills down his spine.

He fiddles around for the right key, the tremors making it hard to concentrate. He almost exclaims in relief when he finds the right one and shoves it into the small hole. The lock clicks open soundlessly. There is a tense moment where the people on both sides of the door go quiet. JJ takes a step back, waiting for the prisoners to find the way out themselves. He isn’t sure if he could face them after what he had done.

_ It was for Isabella _ , he reminds himself. The argument seems to pale as the door is kicked open. Yuri Plisetsky emerges, followed by Otabek Altin supporting a barely conscious Leo de La Iglesia. At one point, they were people he knew and trusted. Those times feel distant now. He nods curtly at them. 

“So you finally came to your senses?” Yuri’s voice is even, although the underlying anger is palpable. JJ nearly expects him to lash out again, but the younger boy simply crosses his arms and gives JJ a death stare. 

“We’re under attack,” JJ mutters, tossing Yuri the battered spellbook he snatched up as he ran past the library. Yuri catches it with ease, still not taking his eyes off JJ.

“You’ve got some nerve to come ask us for help after all this.” He nods towards Leo. The former commander is almost unrecognizable. Angry red stitches cross his throat. His brown hair hangs in greasy strands, obscuring his face. JJ resist the urge to cringe at the wheezy sound he makes every time he inhales.

_ Do you still believe this was right? _ He doesn’t reply to the voice in his head. It has been louder lately. He isn’t ready to face its questions.

“I’m not the one asking,” JJ says. “I’ll make sure you will be pardoned after this.”

Yuri nods. He pockets the spellbook, his stride confident as he makes his way towards the stairs. JJ wants to scream at him to hurry up, but Leo isn’t doing well, his legs nearly giving out every time the castle shakes with the powerful forces of the mages. 

They’ve barely reached the top of the stairs when a group of screaming servants runs past them, their faces clutched in their hands. The smell of burnt flesh tears at JJ’s nose. It is nearly enough to make him go back into the moldy dungeons. 

“What the hell?” Yuri mutters, his hand reaching for his spellbook. 

“Do you know what kind of magic this is?” Otabek asks.

“It can’t be a spell. There are no words in the ancient language to create this.”

“Then how the fuck do you explain this?” JJ snarls, feeling the anger boiling within himself. He might not have known the servants personally, but that doesn’t make them any less worthy. 

“Take a guess,” Yuri spits. His eyes scan the hallway for more people, but it is empty and dead quiet now that the servants have passed. 

“An ability user?” Otabek asks. He’s got Leo hoisted up on his back, the older commander too out of it to stand. JJ feels a twinge of guilt.

“Get Leo out of here. The stables should be unmanned at this hour. It should be easy to steal a horse and find him a doctor. Here.” JJ reaches into his cape and extracts a dagger. It is gilded with gold, intricate carvings decorating the hilt. A gift from his father. “Use it to pay whatever expenses that might come your way. Yuri, I need you to have my back.”

Yuri sputters. His eyes flicker between JJ and Otabek, his nails digging into the spellbook.

“Go Yura. I’ll find you later.”

“I don’t want to.”

Otabek smiles. “We can’t always do what we want. That’s the life of a soldier. Now is your chance.”

Yuri hesitates for moment,before nodding. He turns around, eyes determined as he makes his way down the hallway. JJ gives one last nod to Otabek before following.

JJ expected to feel threatened in Yuri’s presence after the choking episode, but somehow, having Yuri beside him as they mount the circular stairs up to the top floor is reassuring. They don’t speak. Neither has anything to say.

The corpses of several servants lie in the hallway. JJ has to breathe through his mouth to avoid puking. The smell of burnt flesh still permeates the air, the faces of the corpses unrecognisable. Yuri makes a grimace but doesn’t seem to be affected otherwise. 

The door of the king’s chambers is open at the end of the hallway. It makes the sickening sensation in JJ’s gut increase. The castle still shakes occasionally, but apart from that, no sound comes from the room. They approach it carefully, afraid of what might await them inside. It feels like nearing the end of a book, the words slowly piecing themselves together to form a full picture. He can’t stop moving forwards, although he knows before he steps into the room that he is running himself off a cliff. 

His foot hits something on the ground, drawing his attention downwards. His eyes are met with the golden glint of the royal circlet, perfectly situated in the middle of a red puddle. He doesn’t have the time before Yuri’s body slams into him, a bright light passing above their heads. 

* * *

Finding Min-So is easy, even without the trail of bodies she has left. Seung-Gil grimaces, still surprised by just how much damage her ability can do to an unaware person. The building shakes as a spell is deflected, bright lights flashing in front of his eyes. When it dies down again, he sees the source of the light.

Min-So is standing in the middle of the grand bedroom, her lips moving at a rapid pace. In front of her is another woman, shorter than Seung-Gil, her hair starting to grey. Her eyes hold the desperation of someone face to face with death, her hand extended in front of her. On her right middle finger, is a ring embedded with a softly glowing stone. She is standing with her back to the body of a man who lies lifeless on the floor, blood seeping into his expensive garments. Seung-Gil has to duck in order to avoid the energy that ricochets off the ring when Min-So releases her spell. She doesn’t take notice of him when he steps into the room. 

If he didn’t any know better, Seung-Gil would have charged at her from behind. It would have been so simple if she were any other person. A quick slash to her throat or a short incantation would be enough. Except she isn’t a regular person. He stands no chance in defeating her with a sneak attack.

Another spell is released, almost knocking Seung-Gil off his feet. The shockwave is particularly powerful this time, making his ears ring. He shuts his eyes at the bright light, the taste of blood filling his mouth when his teeth sink into his own lower lip.

The queen is panting when he opens his eyes again. It is clear that she knows she has lost. She bows down, raising her hands in surrender, the stone set in her ring cracked. Min-So smiles contently, walking over to the woman. Seung-Gil can’t hear what words pass between them. He isn’t sure he wants to know. All he can do is look away when his master delivers the final blow. A golden circlet clatters to the floor, rolling past him before coming to a stop by the doors. The sickening taste of guilt won’t leave Seung-Gil’s mouth. 

“This was unnecessary.” He states. Because it was. The servants, the damage on the castle, the queen. Min-So could easily have rid the country of the king without all the casualties. She just chose not to. The message couldn’t be more clear: It is all because of him.

“I was not the one who didn’t stick to the plan. This is on you. Always so defiant, Seung-Gil. The entire world should bow down to you and your ways. God forbid he listen to anyone.”

“Stop.”

Min-So approaches him, sneer twisting once beautiful features into a grotesque mask. 

“You had your chance, and you blew it. This kingdom has no place for people such as yourself.”

Seung-Gil ducks. Her arm passes right above his head, energy crackling around it. He manages to hastily form a water barrier before a spell aimed at him shakes the building yet again. 

The incantations roll of his tongue as he desperately tries to gain ground. He stumbles backwards, feet slippery from the blood that is tainting the floor. The spells aimed at him are relentless. He has no choice but to keep pushing, hoping that he won’t slip up. He always knew Min-So was a formidable opponent. A younger version of him would have lost instantly. 

They keep dancing around each other, the massive amounts of stray energy shaking the world around them. Seung-Gil slips into a subconscious state, his body moving purely on instinct. It isn’t enough. If he takes one wrong step...

The spell doesn’t hit him full on, but the power is enough to knock him out even if it just grazes him. He curses inwardly, mind suddenly hyper aware of everything even though his body refuses to respond. He closes his eyes, ready for the next spell to take him out. 

But it never comes.

There are shouts and the sound of running. Disorientated, Seung-Gil tries to make sense of the situation. The world has become devoid of all logic. He can vaguely sense the presence of at least three other mages, but he isn’t sure if he’s just dreaming. His mind grasps at it anyway, hungrily reaching for the light, and then he’s there.

Phichit runs over to Seung-Gil, hands flailing aimlessly around him as he frantically mutters. Min-So is frozen, her eyes darting for an escape, but a silver haired mage counters her moves, clearly a better match than Seung-Gil. The world seems shaky, but Seung-Gil grits his teeth, forcing himself into a sitting position. He can hear Min-So speak with the silver haired but the words doesn’t register.

“Are you okay, can you hear me?” Phichit gently slaps his cheeks to get his attention. Seung-Gil nods weakly. There are a series of flashes as the new mage spars with Min-So. Seung-Gil sighs, tired. Phichit strokes his hair gently, muttering what sounds like a butchered healing spell. It doesn’t help much, but Seung-Gil still appreciates the attempt. At least he feels less dazed.

His attention shifts to the fight in front of him. There is no telling who’s going to win it. Although Seung-Gil has to give the new mage credit for his skill, he still isn't strong enough to overpower her. Unlike Seung-Gil, the spells he uses are more precise, causing less damage to his surroundings when the veer of Min-So’s barriers. 

She is steadily slipping into using her natural ability to power her spells. Not as effective at a long range, but still remarkable. Behind the silver-haired mage, two younger mages are chanting a power transfer spell. Seung-Gil’s gut sinks. If they can’t beat her on borrowed power, there is only a limited amount of time before they’ll lose. He needs an escape route, quick. The possibilities and outcomes line up in his mind, none favourable, no matter how he spins it around. Phichit watches him with a grim expression, hands steady against him. He hates his idea the moment it starts to take form.

Getting Min-So’s attention is ridiculously simple. The spell is weak enough that even if it didn’t rebound off her barrier, it would still barely singe her. She still turns around, seething.

“Behind you!” Seung-Gil shouts. The confusion in Phichit’s eyes for a split second is enough for Seung-Gil to change their position, shielding them both with his ability. It is all the other mages need to push Min-So back for a second, leaving them with a short window of time to run. Seung-Gil doesn’t waste any time. 

He doesn’t collapse before they’re well into the cave system underneath the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is such a mess how did i get here,, never let me write action scenes again *lies down*
> 
> Thank you so much for betaing Gliss, you're a godsend!
> 
> Feel free to come kick me at sheepouttetradecagon.tumblr.com


	10. Every road leads to the North

Seung-Gil feels tired and sore when he wakes. All his memories are foggy, as if he’d lost control of his ability, and it’s slowly trying to suffocate him. Seung-Gil doesn’t think he’d mind too much. Almost everything he’d ever held dear is no more. His body is a wilting plant, slowly losing the will to go on. Now, if only the voices would stop.

He cracks his eyes open, only to be blinded by the light. It is too bright. It takes a few seconds before it stops hurting and another few before Seung-Gil can open his eyes completely. The landscape around him is barren, so unlike the lush vegetation of his home. To his surprise, snow is falling like spores of dandelion in the wind. He flinches when they occasionally land on his cheeks.

“You’re awake?” The voice is vaguely familiar. Seung-Gil turns over, his body too weak to break free from what feels like ten layers of blankets. Phichit is supine against a tree. He’s wearing what looks like a sorry excuse for a winter frock. There are several badly patched-up holes in it, and it appears to be at least three sizes too big. Phichit smiles sheepishly when he notices what Seung-Gil is staring at.

“We didn’t have much to trade. We took off as soon as the tide was low enough to get out of the cave. Some of the locals lent us a couple of horses, but we traded one away a town ago. If we’re lucky, we should reach the northern stronghold in about two days. We already sent a message ahead. We’re going to-”

The words pour out of Phichit’s mouth faster than Seung-Gil can apply meaning to them. He considers asking him to repeat for a moment, but decides against it. It feels like his sides are burning just from twisting around. Even more importantly, it is starting to get a bit warm and itchy inside his blanket cocoon.

“How long since we left?” Seung-Gil wants to cringe at how hoarse his voice is, but even that demands too much energy at the moment. He closes his eyes for a second, considering going back to sleep when Phichit gently nudges at him.

“If you’re feeling well enough, you should eat something. We’ve been travelling for four days now.”

“I can’t.” Seung-Gil’s cheeks heat up. He glances away, not able to meet Phichit’s eyes. “I can’t get out,” he mumbles.

“What?”

“Phichit, please.”

Seung-Gil can almost sense the grin. At least his dumb pride seems to be intact. Phichit helps him unwind the thick layers of blankets, freeing him from his confinement. He nearly crawls right back into the pile of blankets as a gust of wind swoops through the area, bringing a flurry of fresh snow with it. 

The camp their little refugee group has set up is just outside one of the outskirt towns. Seung-Gil can feel the guilt settle in as he watches the others huddle around a small fire. The majority of them look both tired and mildly sick, their skin drained of colour and their eyes dull like a lake on a windless day. Eyes follow him as he staggers into the little circle of people, Phichit doing his best to support him.

To his pleasant surprise, he is met by an excited bark and a flurry of grey fur. Jinju nearly tips him over in her excitement. He sits down in the snow before the dog, hugging her tightly. Behind her, another brown dog follows at a more relaxed pace. It wags its tail but doesn’t make any attempts at attacking Seung-Gil like Jinju. 

“We found here outside the castle after Phichit came to fetch us. We figured she was yours, so we brought her with,” one of the men around the fire says. Like Phichit, he is wearing an oversized coat that is ten seconds from falling apart. His warm brown eyes are framed by a set of glasses.

“How are you feeling?” It is the silver-haired mage. The one that made it possible to escape Min-So. He is sitting beside a dark-haired mage with glasses. The younger mage’s aura is jarringly powerful, almost blinding to look at. It takes some concentration to tune it out at first. 

“I’ve been better,” Seung-Gil replies. He sits down on one of the reindeer pelts that are laid out on the ground. Someone hands him a cup of soup. It feels like a relief to his cold hands.

“What you did back there was quite amazing,” the silver-haired mage muses. “Your master was definitely no easy opponent.”

“Obviously. You lost,” Seung-Gil states matter-of-factly. The older mage twitches but doesn’t say anything back. He mumbles something to the younger mage beside him as if Seung-Gil isn’t there to see it. Beside them, a younger boy rolls his eyes. Seung-Gil does not let his gaze linger on him for too long. The do-not-mess-with-me in the boy’s body language is clear.

“Viktor is like that with everyone, don’t feel bad about it,” Phichit whispers cheerfully to him, elbowing him in the side.

“I don’t.” he hesitates. “Feel bad about it.”  Really, he has no intentions of befriending the older mage. If it weren’t for the fact that he didn’t have anywhere to go, he would have left already. He finishes up his meal and politely excuses himself. The people around the fire doesn’t bat an eye. Seung-Gil goes back to retrieve his blankets and settles himself on the edge of the steep downhill.

He withholds a sigh. It feels like years and years since he first left his home, eager to learn about his ability, even if Min-So was a lot stricter than his parents. It feels odd that he is no longer her protegé. That the days where he looked up to her and followed her every whim are now truly over. 

Phichit shuffles closer to him, trying to follow his line of sight. Seung-Gil isn’t really looking at anything in particular. The sun is hanging low in the horizon, casting its last yellow rays over the mountain range. Even if the landscape is different, the sun looks the same. He wonders if it is still the same on the other side. Behind the sunset. 

“Do you ever wonder if there is something more out there?” Phichit whispers, as if it just occured to him. 

Seung-Gil shrug. “I never had time to give it much thought. You don't notice your surroundings much when you’re trying to assassinate kings.”

Phichit laughs. The sound is so out of place in the cold wasteland. It reminds Seung-Gil of summer and the market that used to set up around midsummer festival.

“When I was young, I wanted so bad to have a fancy ability. I wanted to be like the travellers who came to town during the holidays. They would use their magic to create these beautiful performances. I too wanted to spread that joyful feeling.” Phichit suddenly seems much more down to earth than Seung-Gil has ever experienced him.

“Guess that's not possible with an ability of my nature,” Phichit mutters. There is an edge of bittersweet acceptance to his voice.

“You fail to see the potential in your ability.” He receives a sceptical glance from Phichit.

“I don’t want to become some sort of fortune teller. And what if I see bad stuff? I want people to be happy, but I can’t keep the bad things from them.”

“Even with a different ability that would be impossible. So what if you can’t provide stunning visual? Whatever you refer to as happiness is just a fleeting feeling in that exact moment. What you can give is far more valuable. If controlled right, you can give stability. You can give answers.”

Phichit opens his mouth to protest but Seung-Gil shuts him up with a stern look. “Trust me. Sometimes there is nothing a person wants more than answers. Even if it makes them sad.”

“I didn’t dream anything since you passed out. Every dream has lead back to you. What if I cannot see anything else?”

Seung-Gil exhales. The warmth of his breath makes it visible in the cold mountain air. 

“Your emotions. You need to control them. Your friend is an empath, isn’t he?”

“What gave him away?”

“The aura. It is… blinding. Even someone who hasn’t been taught to read auras might sense something. Either way, he should be skilled in anything relating to emotions. You should talk to him.”

“I thought you were going to teach me.”

Seung-Gil sighs. The fatigue of the past few weeks is starting to wash over him. “I will try. But for now, get a grip on your emotions.”

Phichit looks like he’s going to protest. Seung-Gil wonders how he managed to miss the steel cold determination in those eyes. It only last for a brief moment, morphing into worry when Seung-Gil doesn’t reply.

“You should get some more sleep. You look like hell. Eh- I mean, like you’ve been through it. Actually you look good. For a person who’s been through hell, that is.”

The floundering lifts Seung-Gil’s mood marginally lifts. He cracks a smile for the first time in a week.

* * *

“Don’t move, you’ll make it worse.”

The voice is familiar, but she cannot place it. It’s been such a long time. Mila groans and relaxes again. Her shoulder hurts like no one’s business, and wherever she is is, fucking freezing. She fights the urge to curl up in fetal position. 

“You shouldn’t have gone off alone,” the familiar voice scolds gently. A cold washcloth is pushed against her shoulder. Mila hisses but doesn’t turn away from the pain. She grits her teeth and waits for the worst pain to numb. When it does, it feels like her entire shoulder is throbbing.

“The stitches should hold until we get home. You’ll need to rest for now.”

“Georgi?” Mila doesn’t open her eyes, afraid that she might be wrong. Maybe she’s just that starved for a friendly face. The last thing she remembers is being found by a eastern villager who dumped her off at the closest western town, mumbling apologies the entire way. She doesn’t blame the kid who attacked her. She should have been the one apologising.

“Hush. Chris will be here in a few hours. Until then, we wait. You’re lucky we were keeping an eye on the activity along the borders. Some of the locals were thinking of outing you to the king’s guard. I’ve heard the bounty is great.”

“How is everything?”

She squints up at the form leaning above her. It has been years since she last saw Georgi in person. He still looks like himself. He still wears his hair in the same carefully combed style and the same purple clothes. Mila is struck with a feeling of homesickness. Georgi gently finishes cleaning her wound, leaning back on the stool by the bed.

“The north broke out of its union with the west a few days ago. The entire royal family is missing, assumed dead. The council refuses to tell anything else, except that they have chosen a temporary leader for the time being. We have our doubts about whether they're telling the truth or not. Not a single council member has been seen outside the castle for days.”

“So what do we do?”

Georgi smiles wistfully. “For now, we head home. Lilia has issued an order for the patrols to evacuate any allies in the south. Chris is out rounding up the few who might be in danger of incarceration.”

“The Crispinos?”

Georgi grows silent. Mila glances over at him. His eyes are fixed on the door, although it is obvious he isn’t looking at anything.

“The Crispino family is a powerful force in this kingdom. The empire might become suspicious if they disappear. They’re already plenty paranoid. We don’t need both the west and the east after us.”

“But Sara is our ally!”

“Is she really? She provided us with information once, maybe twice. If she’s anyone’s ally she’s yours personally.”

“Please, Georgi,” her voice is desperate.

“No. Take it from someone who has already made that mistake.”

“Sara is  _ not _ Anya!”

Georgi flinches. Mila wonders if she maybe has gone too far, judging by the tears forming in Georgi’s eyes. Everyone knows Anya is a sore subject for him. Mila had forgotten how much it affects him.

When the door opens after what feels like three eternities of awkward silence, Mila feels like she could kiss Chris. She doesn’t think he would be too opposed to it. The blonde places a sack on the floor and shrugs out of his coat. 

“Mila! So you’re finally awake.”

“It is good to see you, Chris.”

“Likewise.” Chris slumps down at the foot of the bed.”Next time, I want to switch jobs,” he groans, rubbing his legs. He strips down to his underwear, shamelessly massaging his feet. They’re red from cold and peppered with blisters from where the shoes were too tight.

“A people person like you would be bored to just sit here and watch me sleep,” Mila teases, her energy beginning to return. The pain is slowly ebbing.

“Hmm, watching over a beauty like yourself doesn’t seem too bad.” He winks at her. “Although I admit our allies are definitely not bad looking.” 

“You’d date anything with a pulse,” Georgi huffs. 

“You’re too picky.”

“I have standards.”

“If you say so.”

Chris stretches out and snatches the blanket hanging over the side of the bed, spreading it out and creeping under it with a sigh. “I hope you don’t mind,” he mumbles at Mila. “We only managed to land ourselves one bedroom and no one else wanted to share.”

“Not at all,” Mila says. “It looks like you might need it more than me.”

Chris smiles softly and then closes his eyes. “You should get some more rest. We’ll be leaving early tomorrow. And there’s enough space for you too, Georgi.”

“No thanks, I’ll just take the chair. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

The combined glare from Mila and Chris is enough to make him cave after a few minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen up people, I have a shitton of announcements to make
> 
> 1) Glissendo is an amazing person who deserves the world for keeping up with me for this long, thanks for betaing!  
> 2) I have never written Chris our Georgi I am sincerely sorry if the characterisation is bad *lies down*  
> 3) I am very unhappy with the last few chapter and will most likely for my own satisfaction go back and edit them. Nothing too big plot  
> wise but I will be fixing the parts that seems rushed and remove any superfluous content.  
> 4) This might be the last update for a while because  
> \- Irl life (my finals are next week TuT)  
> \- This was the last chapter with a plan  
> \- I am going to start writing my seungchuchu week fics already now since the actual week is in my exam period *dies*  
> 5) I am in no way intending to stop writing this fic. What might happen is that I'll write a few oneshots relating to the fic as an intermission  
> before part two of the plot


	11. Calm before the storm

It was the dogs that alerted them. Maybe they caught wind of the subtle aroma of soup permeating the air, or they simply knew from the many hints left by passing humans.

Seung-Gil lets himself relax for the first time in a long while. He comes to a halt together with the rest of the entourage, taking in the sight of the quaint town. There is a collective sigh passing through the group, finally arrived at their destination.

The sulky blond kid and Viktor is talking to a sentry guarding narrow road leading into the town. Seung-Gil frowns. The low wooden fence and a single fledgling soldier will not help them if Min-So gets hold of the army.

Beside him, Phichit makes a soft noise, eyes wide with wonder. Unlike Seung-Gil, he devours the sight in front of them hungrily, his raw curiosity mixed with awe.

There is no trace of strategic musings whatsoever.

“I've never been this far north before,” he whispers, not to anyone in particular. “Even in these harsh conditions, they still get by like it's nothing.” 

“They're used to it,” Seung-Gil replies. Maybe he'd be more impressed if he hadn't experienced the biting touch of winter in person. He pushes down a vague memory of playing in the snow with his sister. Like his surroundings it's completely detached from any semblance of life, only an ice cold picture gone the moment you look away.

Phichit sniffles. His cheeks are an angry red, not used to the biting winds. Overall, he looks a little miserable. His body somehow seems to be bursting with energy, impatiently waiting for Viktor to clear it with the sentry. Seung-Gil contemplates offering his ragged cloak, the southerner appearing to be needing it more. Still he cannot deny that the conditions are a bit on the tough side, even for him.

He is saved from having to make up his mind (and possibly give away his cloak) by Viktor loudly proclaiming it is okay for them to proceed.

Their group is herded into a small inn, which to Seung-Gil’ great relief, is warmed by the loving crackling of an open fireplace. 

The wounded man is led to sit down by the fire, a soft smile on his face. Even though Seung-Gil hasn't known him for long, he doesn’t think he has ever seen him smile. It suits him the same way the the grass suits being green. Maybe it is something about the hopefulness reminiscent of sprouts peeking out between dead grass that makes Seung-Gil feel at ease. 

He doesn't linger by the fire, not interested in being caught up with the conversation that is starting to bloom in the small group gathered there, encouraged by the gentle warmth. At some point, the crown prince found the inn’s supply of moonshine-cranberry concoction which he is joyously passing out to the others. It doesn’t take a lot to get the guy tipsy. Seung-Gil guesses he probably haven’t touched anything stronger than the fine wines of the aristocrat class. Even though he doesn’t really have a high tolerance himself, at least he can pride himself in not completely losing his brain after half a cup of alcohol mixed with cranberry juice. He does however suffer from secondhand embarrassment, and avoids the loud cajoling with a disgusted grimace. Instead, he focuses on who he presumes is the innkeeper, a sharp looking woman, possibly in her early sixties.

Seung-Gil inches closer, trying to get wind of what she’s discussing with the sulky blond kid. He is muttering something to her, occasionally motioning towards the ensemble in front of the fire. For some reason, Seung-Gil doubts he has anything nice to say about them. Not tat he’d blame the kid. He is quite relieved to have reached their destination himself, no longer dependent on sticking around with their little group anymore. 

The woman nods to the blond kid after a while,  subtly watching the group with a calculating glare. If her eyes were weapons, they’d pierce through her opponents, detached and precise. She’s obviously some sort of higher up.

“Her name is Lilia. A little too old for you don’t you think?” Viktor clasps a hand on his shoulder, smiling sweetly down on him. Seung-Gil isn’t dumb, he knows a threat when he sees one. In many ways, Viktor is like him: a master in concealing his true intentions, albeit the older man’s methods being quite different from his own.

“You don’t know anything about me. For all you know, I could be into older women?” Seung-Gil replies drily. He doesn’t know why he humours Viktor. Maybe it is the feeling of matching wits with a promising opponent. Seung-Gil doubts he’ll be able to figure out Viktor, but he doesn’t really have anything better to do.

“I’d guess overexcitable boys would be more down your alley, but suit your fancy.” Seung-Gil doesn’t let Viktor have the pleasure of seeing him rise to the bait. He shrugs nonchalantly, forcing himself to keep his eyes off Phichit. The boy’s infectious laughter fills the room, making it feel ten degrees hotter.

“Anyway, I’m not here to talk to you about hopeless crushes.” There is an arrogant undertone to the statement, innocent on the surface but biting underneath, just like everything else with Viktor. 

“Is that so?”

“I have an offer. You’re a strong force, and I don’t think anyone would be anything less than impressed by your display down at the castle. Holding out on such a strong mage as your master for so long? Imagine how that could have ended if you only had a bit more training. We have many good teachers here in the north. Magic is… a speciality of ours,” Viktor muses. There is a knowing glint to his eyes, as if he is offering something that can’t be refused. It leaves a bad taste in Seung-Gil’s mouth. “I’m sure there are several who would love to take you on as an apprentice.”

“I’m not interested. I’m sure there are people with more useful abilities you could take on. Phichit for instance.” Seung-Gil looks Viktor directly in they eyes as he says it, solidifying his point with an indifferent glare. Planting roots have ever only brought him pain. He doesn’t lie to himself. As soon as the Min-So problem is resolved, he’s out. And it will be resolved, sure as the sun sets every day. 

Viktor has the audacity to pout, draping himself over Seung.Gil’s shoulder. To anyone looking, it would appear to be another form of the older man’s rambunctious self. However, he leans his head in close to Seung-Gil’s ear, cleverly concealing the whispered words as a overly blatant display of unwanted affection..

“You think his ability of premonition is rare? You didn’t tell him what it means when a natural with the ability to change the state of matter for water comes around? How it is an omen foretelling the arrival of a new era. Of course you never viewed yourself as such, you only know how to use the process one way. Turn vapor into water, water into ice, increase the density. Think of what you could be?”

“You might have that blond kid fooled, but I am not him. I’m done with being controlled. Put your energy into someone dumb enough to bow down to you.” Seung-Gil extracts himself from Viktor, turning his back to him. Maybe if he asks the landlady nicely she’ll let him and Jinju rent a room for free until he can find a job. He feels sick from the thought of spending more time with the little group. Viktor releases him physically, but for some reason Seung-Gil finds it hard to escape the older mage’s gaze. Like the woman, and the sulky kid, his eyes are icicles, truly made to blend into the bland northern landscape.

“You’re avoiding him. Don’t you think he deserves to know?” Viktor nods towards the fire. The little group is listening attentively as Phichit recounts a story. He uses his hands to gesture wildly as he grows more excited for every word.

“When will you tell him?” Viktor says. “Everyone knows that at the beginning of a new era, the soothseer is always the first to fall.”

* * *

Lilia will not let Yuri bring Otabek to stay at his grandfather’s house. Maybe it is because she’s got a need to be in control of every little thing happening in their town, but for the most part, Yuri suspects it has a lot to do with her being a general hag. Or maybe she and Yakov had a fall out again, and her only way to cope is inflicting her surly mood on all the unfortunate fuckers within her reach, which even more unfortunately, includes him. Essentially he sulks until she tells him to go home if he’s so adamant about it, but he’s not bringing any of the other newcomers. It kills his mood faster than a wailing child left alone in the cold for too long.

Fortunately, his crappy mood doesn’t change the fact that opening the door to his childhood home is like taking a step into a relaxing bath.The place is exactly like he remembers. Walls built from notched pine logs, all of them retrieved by his ancestors in the vast forest surrounding the town. Simple furniture carved from wood. And of course, the numerous quilts his grandmother. On top of one of the quilts, a single ball of white fur is resting contently.

“Potya,” Yuri murmurs, dropping his belongings onto the floor. The cat looks up lazily, meowing affectionately at him. She’s in his arms seconds later, the soft fur tickling his face as he hugs her tightly. He often thinks about her when the nights get long, wondering if she’s still hanging on despite her age. She and her grandfather. 

The house feels empty without him. There are still a couple of blackened logs smouldering in the fireplace, but apart from that the place is deserted.  _ Out on official business with the tribes. We expect him back by tomorrow night. _ Lilia never specified what that meant.

He lets go of Potya and allows himself a minute to collect himself. The smell of the old wood and leftovers from home cooked food makes his mind flood with memories. He picks up a log from the little stack by the dining table, throwing it into the flames. Red tongues hungrily engulf it, the dying embers suddenly brought back to life. It is a satisfying sight to watch the flame find purchase on the wood. 

When he was younger he always wished his ability was related to fire. Fire was the epitome of cool. It was aggressive, powerful and intimidating, everything he sought to be. It was a phenomenon which brought attention to itself. When his ability manifested as ice based, he didn’t talk to anyone for a whole week in a fit of rage, until his grandfather finally convinced him he should be happy to have a natural ability at all. Maybe he had taken such things for granted.

He stretches out his hands to warm them on the growing flames. His ice magic is without doubt strong, although it doesn’t really fit the image he had dreamed of, none of the other mages his age would dare to mess with him.  Then there was Lilia; one look from her enough to send even the bravest bully scuttering. As her apprentice he was always guaranteed safety from the other kids. And how the other kids hated him, be it out of jealousy for his abilities or his position. However, their spite always seemed to dim when faced with Lilia’s wrath. He hid behind it in every way he could. In the end, his childhood had been awfully lonely. 

A knock to the door interrupted his train of thought. Potya jumped off the couch to circle in front of the out door. Yuri squinted, slowly following after the cat, picking her up when he reached the door. He and his grandfather rarely got any visitors, and if it had been his grandfather, who was currently in the North-eastern city visiting a friend according to Lilia, he wouldn’t knock.

Hesitantly, he twisted the key in the lock and let the door slide open. 

“What the hell are you doing here,” Yuri hissed. He lets a freezing Otabek slip past him, dropping Potya so he can close the door. Otabek shrugs of his coat, a ratty mess stiff as a dead fish.

“I might have slipped past Lilia. Thought you might want some company.” He settles down in  _ Yuri’s _ chair as if he’s always been living in the cramped hut, eyes meeting Yuri’s with a smile. Suddenly the fire isn’t the only reason he feels unbearably hot. 

Yuri looks around, realising that the house is in a sad state of disarray. Dirty plates are stacked on the dining table, some of them still carrying signs of old food. The stack of firewood by the fireplace must have collapsed at some point, the flaky bark falling off the logs and scattering across the floor. Some of his grandfather’s books are left in odd places, like under pot plants, or in the saucepan by the stove. Since they rarely have guests over at all, it is more or less the normal state of the house.

Usually he doesn’t mind the chaos, it makes their space feel lived in, and carry a sense of home, but with Otabek leaning back in his chair, he suddenly feels an urgent need to clean. He scrambles to collect some of the books and place them in the shelf, then carries the plates into the sink. When he turns Otabek looks like he is trying hard to hold back a laugh.

“Don’t just sit there, if you’re going to be here might as well be of some fucking use,” he grumbles. He can feel the tip of his ears burn with some level of shame. He has always tried to stay composed when around the older officer, and now they’re standing in the least composed home in the entire north. 

Otabek puts a hand on Yuri’s that has taken to aggressively scrubbing the plates. He smiles softly, prying the plate from Yuri’s grip before he manages to deal any serious damage to it. 

“I don’t mind the mess, although i have to say it surprised me a bit at first. Your room back in the castle was always so cold and bare.” 

“How did you find your way here?”

Otabek picks up a kitchen towel and begins to dry Yuri’s plates. They continue to do the dishes methodically, the laid back rhythm calming Yuri’s nerves. Otabek waits to answer until they’re done, placing the now clean plates onto their place on the kitchen shelf.

“Viktor told me. He can actually be a nice guy when he tries.”

Yuri snorts. “More like scheming bastard. Did you eat?”

“No”.

“Great, then we’ll make dinner.”

He shoves the tome that is his grandfather's recipe book into Otabek’s hands and pretends he doesn’t notice the way Otabek’s fond smile makes his heart feel like it’s going to spring out of his chest. 

* * *

“You must have been wrong at the previous turn. This is not leading anywhere.”

“You yelling at me solves nothing. ”

“We’ve been walking in circles for hours. Are you  _ sure _ you remember right.” 

Chris sighs tiredly, trying his best to ignore the bickering of his travel companions. He isn’t sure how long they have been walking, but it certainly is enough to make up for a lifetime of sleeping in late in the mornings. The soles of his feet feel like worn leather, slowly falling apart from misuse. The sound of a body hitting the ground, which he sadly is quite familiar with, draws his attention. 

Mila walks past him without a word, her entire figure rigid with stubborn determination. Behind him, Georgi rises from where Mila undoubtedly pushed him over. Despite being tall and intimidating at first glance, the mage doesn’t have much of a backbone. Chris shudders as he thinks of how his former girlfriend treated him.

“She’s just stressed,” Georgi mumbles, soft eyes watching Mila disappear around a sharp turn of the path. Chris hums, urging the other man to continue walking. 

“I imagine it must’ve been hard for her to desert the army. From what I’ve heard her parents was quite the pair during their time of service.”

“From your mouth, that phrase is hardly a compliment to their loyalty.”

“I can appreciate a pretty face when I see one. Especially if there is an epic story behind it.” Chris winks at Georgi, to which the other man averts his gaze, coughing awkwardly. Unlike Mila, he is easy to tease. Not that Chris would push himself on him. He knows very well where the line between friendship and something more begins and ends. 

“You never told her our contact won’t make his presence known if he doesn’t want to,” Chris says casually, adjusting the position of his sack. His shoulder feels sore from where the narrow leather strap has been digging into it. The cold weather does nothing to relieve him of the pain. 

“She wouldn’t trust him if I did. Better to have us walking in circles until he shows himself.” Chris sighs. The sound is drowned out by the weak wind that has been biting at their faces since sunrise. It makes the forest sound alive, every gust shaking the old pine branches mercilessly. Georgi looks around nervously. It baffles Chris how he can go from the confident right-hand of the northern guild to the restless apparition of a broken heart. Mila likes to call it hiding. Chris sometimes wonders if Mila knows out of experience.

“Can we trust him?” Chris asks seriously.

“Our contact has been a valuable piece in the game that allowed Yakov to seize control of the southern isles without instigating war. He should be trustworthy, and believe me, you will wish to trust him once you meet . He’s got a face anyone would trust.”

“Isn’t that worrisome?” Georgi stops, obviously conflicted. He lets Chris’ question hang between them, suspended without answer; a fly in a cobweb awaiting its fate.

“Mila has already been through a lot. I don’t want her to be exposed to another betrayal.” Chris trails his eyes lazily over the white landscape. It all looks the same. Just miles and miles of ancient pine trees, all of them buried in three feet of snow.

“She won’t,” Georgi promises. There is a finality to his words, which somehow calms Chris’ heart a little. Ahead of them, Mila is waiting impatiently. Her fingers are tapping her calves in an irregular rhythm.

“We should find shelter for the night,” she mutters. Her voice is tired, throat sore from the cold she caught a few days back. 

“Just a few more minutes?” Georgi pleads. Chris wonders if telling her the truth would change her mind. He’s known Mila as a travelling merchant for years, glad to strike a deal with the locals once he was in town. He’s only known her as the informant of the northern movement for about a week. In many ways, her trust, which he is painfully reliant on, feels fragile. 

“What good will it do?” Mila says. Her face is red from the cold weather, an occasional bruise adding sickly shades of blue and yellow to the mix. She shouldn’t be out travelling, but in the caring hands of a physician. 

“Just a little longer,” Georgi repeats. He grabs Mila’s hand in a reassuring way, then hesitantly Chris’. Their walk doesn’t feel quite as heavy as they continue forward.

It is Mila who spots it at first, a yellow light in between the trees. It hovers seemingly without logic, neither moving closer or removing itself from them. Georgi gasps, his face showing his relief. It becomes clear as they approach that the light source is a small lantern. Chris has to concentrate in order to make out the boy holding it, some force telling him to look elsewhere.

“You came,” Georgi says, bowing to the lantern boy. He extinguishes the little flame, breaking whatever spell that directed the attention away from him. 

“I wasn’t expecting you in another few days. You should’ve sent a letter ahead. If Leo hadn’t picked up on your scent I might not have found you?”

“Leo?” Mila asks, eyes wide. Chris can almost hear the unasked question that is without doubt churning through her head.

Guang-Hong smiles sheepishly. His cheeks grow a light shade of pink. “He’s my ferret, a familiar of sorts. I named him after a friend. Not a lion I’m afraid.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t expect.”

“Few do. We should get a move on. All sorts of sketchy creatures inhabit these woods at night.”

“You have a home here? We’ve been walking for hours.” Guang-Hong eyes him evenly, as if challenging him to question his authority. Chris extends his aura curiously, not sure quite what he’s looking for. He is firmly rejected, almost as if the younger boy mentally slapped him.

They don’t have to walk long before they can discern what appears to be a small house situated snuggly in the corner of a clearing. They wordlessly increase their pace, glad to finally find shelter from the unforgiving weather.

Much to Chris’ confusion, there is no visible door anywhere. Instead, Guang-Hong stops in front of a bare wooden wall and whispers a short incantation. It makes Chris’ stomach tickle, as if he’s on the back of a horse at full speed. The feeling fades the moment Guang-Hong finishes his incantation. He reaches out a hand, palm connecting with a door handle that wasn’t there before. Mila gapes at it, eyes meeting Chris’ when the door swings inwards. 

“How does he do that?” She whispers, entering the small door after Georgi. Chris smiles gently.

“He’s an illusionist. A master of directing people’s attention elsewhere, plus a hint of concealing magic. Not a common ability but definitely not unheard of.”

Mila nods, possibly taking mental notes. Chris takes in the sight of their contact properly for the first time. He is far from what he expected. The boy is of short stature, his skin pale and his short hair a soft brown. His face is lightly freckled with doe like eyes that radiates innocence, although Chris suspect that’s not necessarily the whole truth. Nevertheless, it is enough to trick any foolish man with a big ego and an untrained eye. 

“I heard my next assignment comes from you.”

“And you’ve got info for the northerners.”

Guang-Hong nods. He mumbles an incantation to get the fireplace lit, then casually reclines on the armchair. “You first?”

“How do we know if we can trust you?” It is Mila who steps forward. Her stance is confrontational, one belonging to a trained soldier. Guang-Hong’s eyes narrow, his aura pulsing. Chris can faintly feel it reach out.

“I might not have sworn allegiance to the northern syndicate, but I’m clever enough to understand that this kingdom has been on a downhill slide for the past decade. Even if I was siding with the south, doing so now that the capital has fallen wouldn’t do me any good.”

“So you already know.”

“Words travel fast. As an informant it is my job to know.”

“Fair enough.”

Chris sits back in his own chair. He can’t make out whether the kid is lying or not, but they don’t really have any other choice than to trust him. 

“So you know the way?”

“It’s not far from here. Just one day’s travel. The tricky part is not getting lost. You’re from the north aren’t you?” The boy nods to Georgi and Mila. They give a noise of confirmation.

“Lilia put me up to the task to conceal the trail. Only a high level mage like herself or someone who knew they were being fooled by an illusion would be able to find the right way. I think it’s not necessary to point out that the road back might not have been what you remembered it to be?”

“We did run into some problems,” Mila mutters, refusing to meet the young boy’s eyes. 

“I’ll lead you through tomorrow. For now, you should just get some rest.”

Chris gets up and walks over to the boy. Mila eyes him hesitantly, conflict still written on her face. Beside her, Georgi remains silent.

“Thank you for your hospitality. We’ll be retiring for the night now”

Guang-Hong beams up at him. “The guest rooms are that way.”

They get ready for bed in silence, none of them communicating apart from quick glances. Chris pretends not to notice the tension in Mila’s shoulders. He closes his eyes and turns the other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *comes back after almost a year* I'm so so sorry D;
> 
> To anyone who is still following this, thank you so much for sticking around, I didn't mean to leave you hanging but life and bad experiences in the fandom called for a much needed break. This will probably be the last work from me for this ship, but I do in every way intend to finish this before I take my leave as I have many good memories writing this (to all my friends and readers who supported me through this, thank you!)
> 
> Im sadly not in contact with my beta anymore so I hope that wherever sh is she's doing great, but that also means this fic is probably riddled with mistakes. I apologise as english is not my first language and I do not have the energy to spend more time on this than a bare minimum anymore. Yet again I'm sorry. I don't know how fast I'll finish but I guess, uh, don't expect a regular update schedule.
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


	12. Councils

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Waves* Back with another chapter after a small eternity. It's just a two-parter this time but I think it should be satisfactory, sorry for the wait! <(＿ ＿)>  
> As always excuse my english, it isn't my first language and it's been ages since I actually used it regularly, heh (no beta either)

The council is hastily assembled the next day, leaving the streets of the northern village mostly empty. From what Phichit heard, a group of mages arrived from the south with crucial information about the state of the capital. Of course, there’s only so much faith he can put into mere rumours, and with anyone not considered a citizen of the north being banned from the meeting, he hasn’t got too much to do.

Most of the shops in the small merchant’s street is closed, but he does find an inn that is still up, a young boy manning the desk. He glances up eagerly when Phichit enters, rushing to put on an apron that has been flung over a chair behind the desk. 

“It’s fine, I don’t have any money I’m afraid.”

“You’re the one with the premonitions aren’t you?”

Phichit frowns slightly, settling down on one of the barstools that lines the front of the desk. He leans closer to the young boy. His face has still got the roundness of a child, though his eyes are hard like everything else up north. He is probably not older than thirteen years old, but the intense stare he is currently giving Phichit makes him want to spill all the events of the past weeks.

“You’re a truth seer aren’t you? I’ve never met one your age that was this strong.”

“You haven’t met many like me then,” the boy quips. The compulsion to tell him everything just growing stronger by the minute. Phichit shrugs, eyes drifting to the blackboard behind the desk proudly showcasing the menu. He really regrets not being able to bring his belongings, most of the dishes listed sounding delicious. His stomach rumbles in agreement, drawing the boys attention away from his face, the pressure of his ability instantly dropping.

“How long since you last ate?” The boy’s eyes peer into him, making Phichit feel like he is looking straight into the bowels of his stomach.

“Like I said I have no money.”

“Then I’ll pay.”

The boy gapes, and Phichit turns around to see the person standing in the doorway. Seung-Gil strides past him and dumps a pouch of money onto the desk. Its contents spill out, revealing a collection of oddly shaped coins that Phichit hasn’t seen before.

“These aren’t a valid currency here,” the boy mutters, his eyes narrowing at Seung-Gil. The two of them give each other a look as if the other is the most disgusting thing they’ve had the misfortune of encountering. Phichit laughs nervously, pushing Seung-Gil back gently. 

“Hey now. I’m sure he didn’t know. Why don’t we just leave and-”

“The coins are made of silver. You can melt them or do whatever you want with them. They should be more than enough to cover two meals,” Seung-Gil states coldly. The boy considers the coins again, then leveling another calculating look at Seung-Gil. At first Phichit is afraid he’ll refuse, mostly because he can feel the tension radiating off his friend’s body, but the boy eventually scoops up the coins and disappears into what Phichit assumes is a kitchen. 

He breathes out in relief, turning over in his barstool. “What are you even doing here? I thought you weren’t feeling well last night? Are you sure you should be up and walking?”

Seung-Gil avoids his questions completely, dark eyes meeting his resolutely. “Did Viktor speak with you?”

“Viktor? No, why?” Phichit feels slightly annoyed that Viktor is the first thing Seung-Gil chose to bring up. It isn’t as if he didn’t notice him avoiding him and everyone else the moment they walked through the northern gate, and now he’s only found him to discuss Viktor.

Seung-Gil grits his teeth, but settles into a barstool himself, folding his hands in his lap.

“You only found out about your prophecies recently. Did you know before that you were,” he stops, brows screwing up in the search for a word. In any other instance it might have been cute but Phichit can feel the heaviness of the approaching question. He shakes his head.

“I didn’t know much at all. I knew there were seers but, not much else. Why are you suddenly bringing this up and what does it have to do with Viktor?”

Seung-Gil looks away, the stubborn set of his jaw telling Phichit there’s no point in pushing for answers unless Seung-Gil is willing to give them, no matter how much he’d like answers. He reaches out instead, prying open the clenched hands resting in Seung-Gil’s lap, allowing his thumb to trace patterns in his palms. Phichit isnæt sure what spurred the movement on, but Seung-Gil does surprisingly not protest so he continues. “You’re worried about something. I know we haven’t known each other that long, maybe you don’t even trust me, but after all that we’ve been through I think it’d be fair to say you can tell me if something is wrong.”

Seung-gil just makes a choked noise, those cold eyes meeting Phichit’s again, except this time there’s a hint of something else. Calling it fear would be a stretch, but there is some sort of reluctance about them that makes him seem more vulnerable than usual. 

Phichit feels like whatever walls Seung-Gil might have built is slowly crumbling, and if he could just pry away a bit more of his protective layer, he might get an honest answer. He opens his mouth to utter another round of reassuring words, but is promptly interrupted by the return of the inn boy. The food is slammed down onto the desk,  the boy no longer smiling like he did when Phichit entered, casting skeptical glances at Seung-Gil as he retreats back into the kitchen.

Phichit sighs. Despite the moment being utterly ruined and the boy’s surly mood making the air feel a bit tense, the food still smells delicious. He picks up his fork and begins to shovel in. It hits him that he hasn’t had a warm meal in days, the taste of meat and vegetables cooked into a stew exploding on his tongue. He suppresses the urge to make any embarrassing sounds and wolves down more of the stew.

“You should it yours while it is warm,” Phichit suggest at Seung-Gil who hasn’t touched his own food, wide eyes firmly focused on Phichit. Nodding he picks up his own fork and begins eating slowly. His reaction is a bit more subtle than Phichit’s own, but it is definitely there. He can tell by the way his lips parts slightly in surprise, his eyebrows drawing up. Were Phichit always so attuned to the small changes in Seung-Gil’s expressions? 

“Good, right?”

Seung-Gil nods, his eyes fixed firmly into his stew.

The rest of their meal pass in silence, only and occasional glance at each other exchanged now and then. It doesn’t feel awkward really, but there is a restlessness in Phichit that makes him feel like they’ve reached an impasse. When they both finish, they just sit there, none of them too eager to start the conversation again. The boy returns only to collect their plates, and leaves just as quickly after sending Seung-Gil another mistrusting glance over his shoulder.

“You never really answered my question.” 

Seung-Gil looks up, his eyes looking weary all of a sudden.

“Why did you come here? You were looking for me right? There must have been a reason.”

“I-” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking. It doesn’t matter.”

“It kinda does though?” Phichit grits his teeth. “If it concerns me, then I want to hear it.”

“Some things are better to not know. Even if I tell you it won’t make anything better.”

“If it doesn't matter whether or not you might as well tell me then.” He is suddenly standing, painfully aware of the way his voice is rising. For once, he is grateful for how empty the city currently is.

“If you want to know so badly take it up with Viktor, he’s the one who started this bullshit anyway,” Seung-Gil snaps, his eyes cold again. He turns to leave, striding towards the door, but Phichit isn’t going to let him. He is tired of always being left out of the conversation just because people think he won’t handle it. 

It is a in the spur of the moment decision, grabbing hold of Seung-Gil’s arm and pulling him back into the room. They both end up toppling backwards into a table, none of them expecting the action.

“Let go of me”. Seung-Gil’s voice quivers slightly and he is looking pointedly away, his cheeks reddening. Phichit can feel his heart pound against his ribs.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles sheepishly. He releases Seung-Gil’s arm, but makes sure to stand between him and the entrance so he’d have to force himself past Phichit to get out. 

“I-” Seung-Gil bites his lip, then meets Phichit’s eyes. Phichit crosses his arms, trying to seem stern although he is already starting to feel bad for pushing at Seung-Gil like this. Apart from Yuuri he is one of the few people he can call a friend, and he doesn’t want to ruin that. 

Seung-Gil straightens up, taking a step closer until they’re standing toe to toe. Phichit has to force himself not to hold his breath in anticipation. Although Phichit would say he isn’t the shortest person around, Seung-Gil still has a few centimeters on him. He has to tip his head slightly up to keep eye contact.

“If you want to know what Viktor spoke to me about you should speak to him. I wish I had something to say to you on the matter but I don’t.” 

Phichit eyes scrunches up in disappointment, but he doesn’t pull away. He’d pictured himself storming out of the room should Seung-Gil persist in keeping secrets but something is holding him back. 

“I know it’s not fair,” Seung-Gil continues, eyes closing with a sigh. “I don’t want to be the one to break this to you and I don’t think I can explain.”

“Break what to me.” His voice is but a whisper now. There’s an uncomfortable feeling gnawing at his gut. All of a sudden, part of him isn’t sure he wants to know what’s been bothering Seung-Gil anymore. As if he  _ knows _ whatever it is would confirm some ugly truth he’s always known deep down.

Seung-Gil frowns, brushing a stray hair away from his face. His hand pulls away for a moment, then cups Phichit’s cheek gently. Dark eyes considers him silently, looking almost conflicted.

In way, Phichit feels like he’s anticipated the kiss since before they met. The moment their lips meet, he feels like his body is pulled into place, a puzzle piece finally put into its correct place. Seung-Gil gasps, pulling away as if he didn’t realise what he was doing. His eyes are wide, but there’s a certain light to them that wasn’t there before.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, but Phichit isn't having any of it. He hasn’t waited for this moment for so long only to have Seung-Gil apologise to him. Reaching up, he takes Seung-Gil’s face in his hands and brings their faces together again.

He isn’t exactly experienced, and it takes a few tries for him to get it right, but if it doesn’t feel good. By the time he’s found a sort of rhythm to it, they’re both slightly dazed and out of breath, but they can’t really seem to stop either. Phichit’s heart feels like it is moments from leaping straight out of his chest. 

Seung-Gil’s hands are tangling in the back of his hair, pulling lightly at the strands. He starts to slowly back them up against a nearby table.

Then the door slams open, and Phichit’s heart is sent jumping for a whole other reason. The two of them jump apart, and if Phichit thought Seung-Gil’s eyes were wide before they’re definitely now.

Yuri stumbles through the door, slightly out of breath. His cheeks are red from the cold or possibly from sprinting to the inn, his blonde hair falling messily into his eyes.

“You two!” he spits. “The council has requested your presence” 

* * *

There’s a feeling like needles ceaselessly pricking him in the neck refusing Yuri any peace as they walk back to the town hall. He suspects that interrupting the surly eastern kid right in the middle of sucking face might have something to do about it, but who knows these days. He could just as well be dying from some weird spell and he wouldn’t even know.

The town hall  is nothing special, just another square building in a town filled exclusively with square building, except this one is a bit bigger and a bit more square than the rest, so it somehow manages to convey its importance that way. 

The guard at the door, a gangly kid whose name Yuri can’t really seem to remember, salutes them as they walk past. Phichit whose mood seems more or less undeterred from the seriousness of it all salutes back. Yuri has to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

They reach the end of a short corridor, the only thing separating them from the council a sturdy wooden door. Yuri turns around, taking in the faces of his friends? Followers? He doesn’t feel like he has any sort of deep connection to them, but it doesn’t keep him from feeling sorry for them for having been summoned by the council.

“Do not say anything that might provoke them. These guys are old as balls and will not hesitate to make questionable decisions if they feel like you’ve given them reason to.”

“Why are we even here? Shouldn’t we at least get to know that.” Phichit asks. His brows scrunching up.

“You will find out soon enough.”

The building is built to put the person speaking in the centre, rows of benches surrounding the centre space. Elevated balconies allows people who are not partaking in the debate to watch the going-ons of the council, though they are not allowed to participate themselves. Today, the balconies are almost full, stiff faced citizens leaning over the railings. 

Yuri leads his entourage onto the small raised platform in the middle of the room. There are five chairs on the platform, two of them occupied by older councilmen, one of them occupied by Viktor. Yuri ignores the little wave Viktor sends his way before retreating to his spot on one of the surrounding benches.

One of the councilmen coughs, a request for silence. The crowd obediently settles down. 

“Seung-Gil Lee and Phichit Chulanont.” The man states the names with the same tone as a executioner  listing a group of condemned criminals. 

“That’s us,” Phichit answer, his eyes flitting curiously around the crowd. 

“Please do not speak unless you’re explicitly requested to do so,” the man grumbles. Yuri bites his lip. The older councilmen is a pain to speak with, even more so when you’re an outsider with no knowledge of how the system works. Phichit fortunately has the tact to shut his mouth.

“On the account of several witnesses, we have been informed that you were present at the fall of the capital. The current state of the south is largely unknown, but we have received reports that people of the eastern countries have taken control of the castle and is now hunting down mages affiliated to the fallen crown.”

Phichit’s eyes widen, but he remains silent. Yuri almost pities him. Seung-Gil on the other hand, seems largely indifferent.

“We would like you to confirm a few things. Viktor?”

Viktor nods grimly, turning his chair to face the two boys. “Seung-Gil. You were the apprentice of the mage who has taken over the capital, but you knew nothing of her plans to do so, right?”

“I did know she wasn’t satisfied with the way your country reats ours, but I didn’t think  she’d take that course of action,” he states coldly. Viktor hums, though it is clear he isn’t satisfied with the answer. The councilman turns to Seung-Gil as well.

“So you knew of her plans to take over? And you were a part of it as well?” 

“Of course he wasn’t! He single handedly fought off his master until I got there,” Viktor chimes in cheerfully. He scoots over and slings an arm around Seung-Gil’s shoulder who tries to shrug it off, but Viktor only seems to tighten his grip. Yuri gapes for a second, but no one reacts. Of course no one reacts. Viktor might be young, but he is still respected for his powers, enough so to be able to pull shit like this at a council meeting without anyone batting an eye.

“Very well then.” The councilman turns to Phichit.

“You were there as well. Did you see him cooperate with the enemy?” 

Phichit hesitates for a moment. It isn’t long, but in Yuri’s opinion it is just long enough to make the credibility of his statement fall drastically.

“No, I only saw him fight her. He saved me.”

A displeased expression crosses the council leader’s face. 

“See? He is on our side, and a powerful, promising mage to boot. Not to mention he knows our enemy better than any of us. We should use this asset to win back the capital,” Viktor exclaims. The councilmen huff. 

“We have no guarantee he won’t turn back to his master the moment they are reunited. For all we know he could be a spy sent to infiltrate us. He knows our city, we cannot let him go.”

“If you can’t trust him, trust me!” Phichit interrupts. The crowd starts to whisper, the councilmen's eyes flicking nervously between each other and Phichit. He is standing up now, walking towards council leader.

The councilman’s eyes narrow. He straightens his back in an effort to loom above the younger man. “And how do we know we can trust  _ you _ ?”

“With all due respect sir. I lost my home in this conflict. I lost everything me and my teacher had been working for. I’m sure you guys knew Celestino and even though he didn’t always agree with you he was a mage who wanted the best for our country. I don’t know where he is now.” Phichit pauses, eyes seeking Yuri in the crowd. “But as his apprentice I stand by his ideals. I know your culture values the bond between a teacher and his apprentice. You should know how I feel about this, that this is a genuine thing.”

“And what about him?” The councilman eyes Seung-Gil, not even trying to hide his apparent disgust.

“I take full responsibility for him. If he steps out of line,” Phichit looks over to Seung-Gil, his eyes nearly pleading for his friend to remain silence. Yuri already knows what his next words will be. “If he steps out of line, I will end his life myself.” 

The councilman nods. “Very well. Viktor might take him on as an apprentice,  _ if _ you can swear on your masters name that you will end him should he step out of line.”

There’s reluctance in Phichit’s eyes as he rises from his chair, placing his fist against his chest. Seung-Gil has gone quiet, his eyes avoiding everyone. There is surprisingly little that betrays Phichit’s hesitancy as his voice rings out in the room.

“I swear”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there are any continuity issues, it's been ages since I worked on this so I can quite honestly not remember everything I've written up until now. Feel free to tell me if you spot anything weird! Thanks for reading (＾▽＾)


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